Fast Six: Too Dangerous for the World
by larosa19
Summary: Dominic Toretto and the crew are done with the heists. They've taken on Rio Janeiro, Brazil and left their mark. Content with their lives, they settle down into peaceful ways. But their safety is threaten once again when Han and Gisele meet up with a familiar woman who was presumed dead in L.A., now named Luciana. Nobody is really prepared. Especially Dom. Gangs and street racing!
1. FF5 After Credit Scene

_**Fast Six: Too Dangerous for the World**_

Author disclaimer: I do not own the characters or anything else. It is purely for everyone's enjoyment and not for profit that I write this piece. WE ALL LOVE FAST AND FURIOUS! That's why we write it! Anyways, mainly focused on Dotty storyline.

Forewarning: It will contain strong language and graphic details. For adults and young adults, cause' face it. We've all heard it before, right?

Feel free to make some comments and point out any mistakes. Thanks for reading and hit me back whenever you like!

Summary

Dominic Toretto and the crew are done with the heists. They've taken on Rio Janeiro, Brazil and left their mark. Content with their lives, they settle down into peaceful ways. But their safety is threaten once again when DSS agent Luke Hobbs catches up with them, and Han and Gisele, who've signed up for another job, are in trouble against other gangs, including the Russian Mafia. However, nobody is really prepared when the two encounter a woman who was presumed dead back in L.A. Especially Dom. So they end up in Berlin, Germany, a city known for devious acts: gangs, street racing, explosions, and lots of bloodshed.

Expect Love/Action/Dotty Reunion!

_**Fast Five**_

(The after credit scene)

_ Luke Hobbs was hunched over_ _a case-file in deep concentration when he heard a hard tap at his door. He looked up to see US Customs agent Monica Fuentes with a folder in her hand, tossing it out roughly in front of him as he just finished scribbling a note on the profile he was looking at. She was bending forward on his desk with utter poise. _

_"You need to look at that." she said firmly_

_He didn't ask, but questioned her with a look. She waited. _

_He picked it up and observed the first page while she moved to sit on his desk and spoke in a clear, firm voice, "Berlin. 3 a.m. this morning. A team of drivers hijacked a military convoy."_

_"Toretto?" he asked quickly._

_"Nope." she replied. _

_"Ain't interested." He dismissed it, giving it back.__  
__She stared at him intently, "Yes, you are," lowering her eyes to the folder and then back up to him. "Keep looking."_

_He sighed, wondering to himself why the hell it was so important if it was not Toretto himself, and as he opened the folder—lifting the pages up more—he backtracked once he saw it. _

_No fuckin' way__, he thought incredulously as he held up the paper to see it clearly._

_It was a recent surveillance photo of Leticia Ortiz, Toretto's dead ex-girlfriend. _

_He looked up at Monica for confirmation. _

_"Do you believe in ghosts?" she teased smugly._


	2. A Bullet with Toretto's Name on It

**Part I**

**Diplomatic Security Service Headquarters, Washington D.C. 6:13 a.m.**

**October 5th, 2011**

Luke Hobbs was looking back down at the surveillance picture of Dominic Toretto's ex-girlfriend and felt a searing hot appreciation run like an iron brand throughout his nerves and body. This was it.

_He got him. He got him_, he repeated in his head.

He was sure of it. He got that son of a bitch. He wasn't trying to be all cocky and superior about it, but it was a simple ass fact. He was gonna get him this time.

If Toretto ran away from police custody before with a perseverance that no one could overthrow because of his natural extinct in survival and fear, then what's to stop him from running now—besides this girl he used to love? The Latina girl that grew up next door to him in L.A., his former flame? She was the essential key to his capture. She was the bait.

And as he opened up his mouth to question Fuentes more on the details of the heist, she suddenly excused herself as her phone rang, spinning on her heel to take the call.

He grudgingly nodded at her as she left, returning back to the photo and his thoughts on the case.

Yeah Leticia Ortiz, who should have been dead based on the filed reports, was alive. And according to this photo, she was now working in Berlin on her own terms. With her own team. Funny. He read her background story in L.A. The deal she made with Brian O'Conner and the FBI. It wasn't a good one.

Two years ago, she went undercover for the FBI as a double agent being used as one of Arudo Braga's elite drivers in a crime ring—on a heroin transport, crossing from the border of the U.S. to Mexico when one of the henchmen, Fenix Rise, was ordered to kill all the racers after the job was done. She was one of the victims that realized this and tried to flee, but he had chased her as she ran and wrecked her car after hitting into it only once. It rolled six times before it blew up to flames. Fenix—the gutless prick that he was—was the one who seen to it that she never woke up to the light of day. The one who attempted murder on her and either thought it was successfully done, or was unaware of her escape. Fucking prick. Shouldn't have been allowed to breathe.

But then, of course, Toretto found out about her "supposed" murder and went on a killing rampage. Both he and the ex-FBI agent Brian O'Conner ran for Braga just like Ortiz did, and had taken a lot of cash from them when the deal went wrong for a trade. But eventually, to that larcenist's satisfaction, he personally impaled Fenix with his car. Broke him in half.

Now anyone with eyes could plainly see that Toretto loved the woman. He exposed himself out in the open, risking himself in the process to get revenge for her, and then got it. Yet, the feeling wasn't mutual on her part. On that he could tell. Because to him, it was pretty strange that she was alive at the time, but didn't bother to make an appearance when Toretto was in L.A., avenging her death. There were likely to be enemies to watch out for, yeah, but she had gone through the notion of trying to earn his freedom—already putting herself in harm's way, and nearly died for it when she agreed to be a double agent, so why stop there? Had she thought better of it and said "fuck it", let him be?

She was now hiding in a different country, obviously still under the pretense of being dead, and avoiding the law or any other deemed threat. She didn't return to him when she could have. She didn't let anyone know where she was and continued to let the whole world think she was buried in a grave in L.A. Yep that was the pitiful thing. Nobody knew. Toretto didn't even know and still doesn't—which luckily for him—works well to his advantage since he was planning on finding the girl and luring him in with her.

And if Toretto ever did find out, well, then he wouldn't have to be staring at her file right now. He'd be pointing a gun at Toretto's chest and basking in his victory. Call it bounty hunter's intuition.

But he had to admit it though, it was discerning—the whole situation. Almost epic. It was phenomenal in a way that drew others to lose focus on the objective of the case, and seek more on the story behind it all. Definitely was a rare occurrence when he had a case like this and when it did happen, it was a damn shame nobody knew but him. There were too many questions left unanswered and when no one could actually pinpoint an explanation of how she managed to stay alive, he was not as desperate as they were to find out how, but why.

Why _is_ she still alive and nobody knows it.

To everyone who knew Leticia Ortiz as a child growing up to a teenager and so forth, it was considered a devastation; a horrifying confrontation of the loved one's departure from life as they sat at her funeral; buried inside their grief. There was always the sudden overwhelming realization that nothing was ever going to be the same. And it was true. Nothing was ever the same for them. So that fact made them overlook everything else. Even the possibility of her survival.

To those who didn't know her well enough, it was considered an intrusion, and a weakness of heart that they showed up to her funeral only to have such an oncoming degree of guilt for never getting the chance to be close to her. They weren't worried about anything else either. Too busy in their own remorse.

However, to someone like himself, it would have been considered an unfortunate loss and a grim time to help others in coping with her death. It would have been a line of duty for him and service to those who knew her best (if he had been close). On the other hand, it would have been or would have seemed to him...a little—what's the word he's looking for, suspicious? Yes, suspicious. For two reasons.

First reason: There was no body.

Where was the body? It must have been extensively burnt, but still intact, right? Charred to almost nothing? That was something he didn't understand. The body should have at least been recovered, cremated, pulverized, and then placed in an urn and presented by the investigators for full proof. But it wasn't. There was only an empty casket.

It probably would've been inappropriate at the time, yeah, but it would have finalized everything.

Where was her body? For autopsy? For provisional identification? If she hadn't survived the explosion, then wouldn't there be a body to prove it? Didn't that pose a few questions right there?

He squinted at the picture again, his dark eyes taking in the raven-haired woman.

They probably could have used dental records for proof...of course, but what if someone switched the papers? Didn't anyone think it could have easily been forged? He knew from past experience it's possible. Reconstructing teeth was considered helpful and tactful. In fact, that would have been one of the factors used to resolve the matter. Except where exactly was the teeth to do that? Where was the body?

Maybe hypothetically, they did have one and it did have teeth. Ok, now it's making some sense, but then again what about the other constructive ways for identification? DNA analysis? Human tissues? Hair? How about fragments of skin and bone? Why the hell should dental records be the final word and closure of Leticia Ortiz's death?

Second reason: Who claimed she was dead?

The morgue? The investigators? Who? Was it Mia Toretto who identified the body? Or was it an expert? A pathologist? None of it made any sense to him. They all just...assumed, and it was stupid on his part too. He never cared for actualization or logic. He just did what he was told. Believed what was spoken to him. That's it. And, he thought berating himself, he was a damn fool for never questioning it before.

Death was a sensitive topic and he was not a heartless bastard. 'Cause if she were his girlfriend, wife, best friend, sister, daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, or relative, he would have mourned over her death tenfold than anyone else ever had. Period.

But he knew nothing of the lady. Only that she was involved with Toretto for a long time until they separated. Leticia Ortiz was supposed to be dead. Yet, how could anyone argue with this sort of evidence? This recent photo along with the fingerprints were exact matches of the woman. And apparently, she was still hijacking cars.

He shook his head.

How does nobody know about this? How is nobody responsible for it? Somehow...it seemed fitting that the FBI knew.

"Do you believe in ghosts then?" Fuentes asked, interrupting his thoughts suddenly as she walked back in his crowded office with that same smugness in her eyes and that light tone in her voice. She raised her eyebrows at him and he smirked.

Fuentes was an overconfident lady. He didn't have to guess that she took pride in her work (it was the most obvious in the world). But he also knew that it could be her greatest strength or her worst weakness—a fine quality for a woman of the law. He'd have to debate on whether or not it was the latter, though. Arrogance can be her downfall.

Thinking back to her last question, he gave her a stern look. Ghosts? Really? Huh, that's funny. He ignored her question and cleared his throat, slightly raising his tone. "And this was just this morning?"

She nodded her head.

"She was a part of the team in this heist"—her fingers prying the picture off the clip—"The six riders were dressed up in military uniforms under the pretense of officers. Yeah, I know," she added before he tried to cut in with a nasty remark about how that wasn't possible for operatives. "But unfortunately, no one was aware that their men hadn't return with them, so they were thought to be in the clear. It turns out that some of them were associates of the La Cosa Nostra family."

He sighed. "Italian mafia." Son of a bitch.

"Yes and after midnight when they had surveyed the area, they hitched two gun trucks, and knocked out almost every man that was on duty with nerve gas; nearly killing them. They pursued the convoy and stole all of the supplies—and the Kamaz trucks—and moved them west towards the Netherlands where they were later exported across the Atlantic. It took them only three hours."

He muttered a curse under his breath and then spoke up again.

"Highly trained. It would take experienced drivers to be able to steal those cars and get them that far in just that quantum of time. But tell me something, Fuentes. Why is it that these professional drivers from an Italian mafia family and all—having been initiated and sworn under oath to the secrecy of La Cosa Nostra—why didn't they follow their own rules? Think about it. No family members could have been the perpetrators of a heist like this. They live by the code of silence, 'omerta'."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. It could have been the Don's decision. They tend to bend the rules for special occasions. A competition of money, perhaps a debt or initiation, but whatever it is, it's important."

"Initiation can only be by death. Killing another human." he replied darkly.

She smiled coyly. "Then a debt."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Typical. "Alright, so how did they get past all of those men who were trained in accordance with the U.S. embassy system? Military convoy operatives? Office of defense? There were only six drivers and there were over twenty men." he argued his point.

She tilted her head a little. "You don't need much of an excuse."

"Explain that to me." he ordered, not very nicely.

Fuck, he just wanted to lash out on her, he thought, annoyed. It would have been unjustly of him, and unprofessional at that, but was she _really _going to give him a smart ass response? Not such a bad idea to teach her who's boss, is it?

But instead of giving it some consideration—bending dauntingly over  
his desk—he gave her a harsh "no bullshitting" look, and she in return, laughed at him the way a condescending person would. The Hell?

"Luke, these people were picked for exactly this type of sting operation. They have expertise. They outsmart others. Yes, they had only a small amount, but they had back up—an especially wide range of them from Mexico. And this is La Cosa Nostra were talking about. Even outnumbered they are unfazed by the idea of failing. It just motivated them. Oh, and there was also a strong indicator of that motivation, too."

"Like what?" he asked with a frown. What could have made them work out in the open? Expose themselves that way?

She leaned in a little and whispered. "The convoy had high precision weapons, made by the former Soviet Union manufacturer, KBP; developed in Tula, annndd," saying in even a lower pitch, leaving the sentence open.

"And what?" he prompted.

"And there are men—_eager_ men, who are trying to relocate them to Moscow. Former intelligent agents to be exact." She elaborated with such accentuation; display of confidence.

"But that must mean—"

"KBG."

He was certain then. "The Russian mafia. They must be at World War 3 with La Cosa Nostra, and are planning nuclear attacks in their country."

"Hm-hm, for awhile now, but it's just my theory. Here's the database of the chosen drivers." she said, flipping to a page of names, and handing it to him.

Luke roamed his eyes through the names on the list.

1. Giovanni Carcione

2. Costanzio Pecoraro

3. Leonardo Ricci

4. Luciana De Santis

5. Reinaldo Lo Vergiere

6. Armando Guerrera

Luciana De Santis was the only woman name present…_That must be Leticia_, he thought triumphantly.

"I'm gonna need a governmental jet to Berlin as soon as 12. I don't want to lose the only lead we could have to Toretto, so get it done before I check in." He stood up and paced out the door.

Fuentes followed him out with the papers still in hand. Her heels were clicking hard against the polished floor, and he noticed there was an air of determination in her walking stance. He rolled his eyes. Typical woman.

"I'll have it arranged for 10. The jets have already been supplied, so it shouldn't be a problem of loading. We have a team recruited for this case, as well as a translator, but we will also need security authorization for our investigation. The Commission has laws in Germany, and since it _is_ their jurisdiction, they are in full pursuit of the drivers as well."

He grimaced, not liking the idea. "They have to be stupid if they think they could take on these criminals alone."

They turned a corner and went straight to the elevator, but feeling a bit impatient today, he headed for the emergency exit instead. It was only a few floors.

As they walked down the metal staircase, Fuentes arched an elegant eyebrow, whispering in case someone heard them. "You don't think it could be done?"

He stopped—a little off balance at her question—but then recovering, slowly turned towards her with his best narrowed eyes. She needed a reminder of how complicated it could get.

"You bet your ass I don't. I've been chasing down runners all my life and it doesn't get any easier. I've shed blood every time. It won't be any different. Especially when the criminals are specialized to thwart officials of government, and hired like you said, they will be ruthless and unpredictable."

He takes a sip from the coffee mug he still had in his hand, and continued walking as if uninterrupted.

"So…the FBI needs people like me, from the DSS, who can think outside the box. I am the person they turn to. The only one who intends, with all their power and might, to bring those sorry sons of bitches home to their rightful place, and not feel an ounce of remorse for it. Criminals belong behind prison bars and I put them there. That's what I do."

"Do you?" she challenged as they reach the bottom of the steps.

He felt his jaw flex in anger. _What?_

"Excuse me?"

"Well, do you?" she repeated and he had to bite back the urge to call her a meddling nuisance of a woman.

"Yes." he said through clenched teeth. What the hell was she inferring? That he didn't do his job? What the hell was this woman trying to do? Piss him off? Sure it was a reflexive reaction to be angry at the accusation, but to lose his cool because of her little inquisition?

That was not him.

Fuentes cleared her throat and straightened the front of her shirt. "So you say."

He was unable to avoid her dark brown eyes looking pointedly at him, and he growled roughly from the back of his throat. "What's your point?" he asked flatly.

"There is one. But why don't you answer me honestly first."

He got dangerously close to yelling at her at that moment, but instead of doing what he wanted, he marched towards her, ready to give her a different—yet similar, type of hell.

To his surprise though, she didn't flinch or retreat. In fact, she just stood her ground and it both annoyed and amazed him at the same time.

In the academy, he was the ultimate intimidator—given his height and weight—and it was what usually fueled his ego; a boost of his confidence. He had gone through extensive combative military training, firearms, and physical fitness, yet this woman…this woman, obviously didn't think he was intimidating, and that irritated him so damn much. But he didn't show the effect she had on him though. Just darkened his eyes more.

"Is there something _you_ have to say Agent Fuentes? Because if you do, speak up. I don't have a lot of patience to give right now." he demanded.

She sighed heavily like he had just defeated her in a supremacy matchup.

"I know you may not care for the justice system, but I do and we should acknowledge that they will allow us into their country to find the fugitives. Remember, we are the foreigners there. It's not our place. Plus, you did allow them to walk." she added in a knowing tone.

He grunted uncomfortably.

Shit. How did she know? He was pretty sure nobody knew besides him and Elena Neves. They were the only ones present when they escaped…unless someone had guessed what had happened at the actual event, and had copied it down somewhere like in a classified file. And even without authorization, it was likely that someone would dig around for this crucial type of information, and use it against him. And it just had to be her. Now it was either play it cool or just admit the mistake. He decided to admit the mistake.

"If you're referring to Toretto and his team, then maybe I did. It won't happen again, though."

Fuentes took a step forward and leaned into him, making him retract a little from her closeness. Jesus woman! No boundaries. He wouldn't confess it, but he felt quite aroused by her straightforwardness. Very…_very_, aroused.

"Let's hope that when the time comes...you mean it." she whispered softly, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder before she turned to walk away.

He watched as she left to the front of the agency—to her own unit—and shook his head in disbelief. Goddamn that woman. Beautiful and sophisticated, but arrogant. Too full of herself. Still, he had to admit she had a point.

He had conflicting emotions at that moment. Surrounding the idea of what she just said. Usually, he was able to suppress feelings during his hour of work, but now he found it fucking hard as it was starting to bother his conscience. Never had he ever felt so offended than now by her doubts. He was a man of his word. He prided himself on it, and it was part of his duty to be an honest man who abided by the law; one of the main reasons why he joined the force. Because he knew that it would be something his dad would be proud of if he were still alive. His father had been a cop, too, and an honest man himself—the connection they both shared.

And yet...he had this other feeling. One that betrayed his beliefs and his style of work.

It was hesitation.

He began to wonder if being a man of his word was actually enough for him to live up to his promise. Would he really book Toretto and his family members and drag them back to the States where they will be prosecuted and sentenced? He was appointed to it and he took the bounty hunter's oath.

So...yeah. He'd do it. Because he agreed to stick to it, and, frankly, it was just the way he was made. He told Toretto himself that when he let him go in Rio.

To confirm his claim and validate his word, he made a promise to himself right then as he walked out of entrance of the Head Quarters and to his car in the lot, that no matter what—he wouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of his job.

Although he might have a grudging respect for Toretto and his other family members, he knew he was just another criminal to lock up. He was the main target and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that he didn't miss it.

He had a bullet with Toretto's name on it.

**AN: I had to fix a little of this chapter. Make note that the convoy was a **_**U.S.**_** military convoy that was holding **_**Russian**_** military weapons. Ha, I hope it makes some sense **


	3. Keep the Love on Lockdown

**Berlin Airlift, Berlin Germany 1:35 a.m.**

**October 5th, 2011**

Two Jaguar XKR-S cars and one black Audi R-8 GT were parked across the abandoned airlift, inconspicuous, but out of place too. The people in the cars were watching cautiously as the U.S. servicemen packed their cargo; all of them buying their time.

One of the drivers was on top of the vicinity roofs, in 1/2 mile radius of the base, for surveillance. He had night vision binoculars in his hands.

"Just like we predicted. _Sto valutando tra le dieci a venti guardie_ (I'm estimating between ten to thirty guards). Is the hijacking possible?" His Italian accent taking on a high pitch as he apprehensively questioned their mission through his walkie talkie.

The one in the Jaguar car, dressed all in black camouflage answered him through his headset while speculating it himself, "We could chance it, but their cargo will be protected. It's unlikely we can get to the center of their base without drawing attention to ourselves. We'll have to take them on the drive," He turned to the dark-haired woman next to him. "What do you say, Luciana?"

He stared at her, waiting.

Slowly, the Latina woman faced him, feeling a bit distant from the situation. She took in the questioning look in his hazel eyes and narrowed her dark ones in thought; pondering the ordeal. Hmm…what do I say, she thought silently to herself. What do I say to that? Huh...well, she honestly would have said, _"Fuck yeah! Let's do it_!" And a huge part of her agreed.

I mean they couldn't afford not to, right? They needed to pull this shit off so she could have a good night's rest, and then return back to those waiting for her in Yucatán in the morning. That's all she ever wanted since she got there—to go back home to her private villa in Mexico, and to one of her heart's comforts—sleeping peacefully after his animated day while she dressed down in her usual wife beater and sweat pants to sleep next to him.

But out of all of the times today—out of all of the days of the fucking year—she didn't voice her opinion out loud. For once, it was not her main concern at the moment. That's pathetic. She was always outspoken. Like her ideas or not, she'll lay it on you whatever she thought. That's just who she is. Like it or not.

No.

Her main concern right now was the idea of never making it out alive like she almost didn't last time.

And even though she was sure her face and demeanor looked all calm and collected and shit, she was actually trying very hard—her fucking hardest—to shake off the immense fear of never being able to go home to her family again—and of never having the little rascal in her arms again, but she wasn't succeeding. Not even a little bit. Not the slightest! Wasn't that a bitch…

She stared out the front shade-tinted window, continuing to think of what it would resume to be like without _them_ in her life. Perspiration was starting to break out on her forehead and she absently swiped it away.

Ride or die…she once said.

Either live the risky life of danger, adrenaline, and speed, and LIVE to tell about it at old age. Or become a stranger to it; an outsider looking in, and never know the feeling of being free. Of taking a challenge whenever one came and having your reputation—die, instead.

Ride or die...

_So, what's it gonna be_ _girl_, she thought wearily to herself, deliberating.

Stay or hightail it?

….

Well obviously, she had to stay to get the job done. She had to fight for them. She couldn't just roll over and die, and she refused to, anyway. She had to stay...

But fuck, she thought again wearily, it was becoming like a death sentence for her.

Tonight was supposed to be an open gate; a key to loosen the chains and open up her cell door. So far it turned out to be the longest summer night of her life, and although she hadn't done anything yet, she was already sick of it. It was too early for those kinda negative thoughts floating around in her mind she knew, but it was 'cause she wasn't used of trying so hard to avoid them. And almost dying can do that to a person.

Holy shit, man. Since when had she ever let herself go soft? Barely making an effort to care and stand for anything around her, let alone their "botched" mission. She had to get a grip of herself.

"Luciana?"

She heard the name, but didn't turn.

Nope. She wasn't Luciana. It was an alias like everything else that was faked in her life. Her real name was—or used to be—Leticia Mayte Ortiz. Letty...

That _was_ the name her mother named her at birth, and unavoidably, written in stone on her grave back in L.A.—an empty grave at that. Her grave represented what was supposed to be the final resting place of her, but in reality what it _really_ was, was just a sad display of her former life. Of the former Letty. Who was I now? she wondered. Well, she didn't know.

Luciana De Santis, the half breed Dominican (Puerto Rican) and Italian!

Pause.

Yeah, well, it almost had a nice ring to it. At any other given European country, specifically Italy, it would've sounded better.

So who's calling it, if not her?

Eh, she guessed no one else can, so she'll have to. Bullshit! _All of it_. It was all just a cruel joke, a cover up from running away from the law like all the other idiotic stunts she pulled. What made her believe for one second she could pretend to be someone else? She was Leticia Mayte Ortiz deep down to her bones with her blood pumping through her heart to the inside of her veins to the green lines on her wrists. She was Letty and no one in this world was gonna change that. Not even herself.

She put her hands through her long tangled mass of hair and sighed.

But yep, it was carelessly stupid what she did in her past. And today she still didn't figure out how she could have end up here in Berlin when she ran for Braga. She was there for the most dangerous hijacking she ever attempted, across the fucking globe for a debt, and nothing was further from the truth.

Leon was in trouble and so was she. He needed to get out of the mafia and she needed to come clean about her true identity. But they both failed to do it and now they're both here running for the Italian mafia and she's scared shitless. If it were to end badly, she knew she was a goner. _Dead_. No más! And she would never get the chance to see her family again.

But if she did pull it off. She was free. Free to roam the streets, cash in her back pockets as Letty—not Luciana.

BUT FUCK! This was still her life on the line though! Why didn't she just flee and save herself when she had the opportunity to do it?

God, I am so stupid, she thought abrasively to herself. I am so fucking dumb and ignorant and likely to get myself killed! Her breathing had hitched a little and her palms were getting sweaty.

She sat for a second or two, trying to control her breathing.

Three. Four. Five.

No, she shook her head finally, resolved.

Bitching and worrying wasn't gonna solve anything. It sure as hell wasn't gonna help her keep herself on her feet. Or give her the ticket she needed to fly herself back home to her "new" family. No… So, Letty or Luciana or whatever the hell you call yourself now, get a grip and buck up, she told herself firmly. If she was gonna get out of there, she needed to focus on the job at hand, and stopped her complaining. Just deal with it.

Yeah, deal and endure. Then suffer later.

She looked at Armando, Army, who was still waiting for her to comply. His face contained no emotion. Just a growing impatience.

I am not weak, Letty told herself fiercely. I am at the top of my game.

So finally, with a cock of her shoulders and a lift of her chin, she gathered up her courage and smirked widely at him, saying cunningly: "I say we do it and hold nothing back."

The 30 year old Italian man named Army watched her cautiously and then nodded, his eyes saying, _"Now we're talkin!"_

He talked swiftly into his headset, executing the plan. "Alright, we're going through with the plan. Gio, you and Costan take the left wing. Take out anyone who tries to stop you with the tank. Leon and Reinaldo, you flank the right. We'll take the head of security and blow out their tires. And they'll be here to escort once we have the trucks, capiche?"

"Got it." they sent back.

Letty watched him closely as he took out his ear piece and looked over at her.

"You're eager, aren't you?" he asked quietly, unstrapping his seat belt and reaching back for his bag.

And without much conscious effort, she chuckled—a real throaty chuckle, and shook her head in amazement. She reached in the backseat for her own duffle bag, and started taking out the chemical grenades. "To be home…more than anything, bud. You already know it. Do I need to repeat it twice ? Ugh, fuck," she griped suddenly as she tried adjusting her combat boot and her leg sheath. "Damn thing is kinda tight."

The knife she brought with her was resting firmly against her leg, and she found a bit of comfort in it. It was a necessity for any bastards who tried to fuck with her.

"You know...your freedom will be earned if you succeed. You could leave if you wanted to. The debt would be paid." he reminded her gently.

Army, a handsome, attractive Italian mob associate and second in command of their gang, ran a nervous hand through his dark wavy lock of hair and golden brown forehead, locking his eyes deeply with hers. He knew he had little time to convince her to stay, and he was desperate to keep her with him. So he decided he wasn't going to play by the books. In fact, he might just play dirty.

Letty felt her breath give a little at the casual body movement, the involuntary rub of his unkempt hair that he was trying to smooth around her, to prep and impress with—which she thought was weird. He was a naturally good-looking guy with the sun kissed skin and toned arms, stomach, back, legs, and…ass… Any woman would go crazy at the sight of his six pack and charming Italian accent. So why bother with her?

Then just as weird, she felt herself staring lingeringly at his lips and leaned involuntarily towards him, near his upper torso. She hadn't even moved when he brushed against her, maneuvering himself to face her, but as he lowered himself closer to her lips (almost close enough to touch), she quickly moved her head to the side.

No! Army was just a friend. Just a friend.

He was a disciplined, level headed, smart guy, and was one of the few reasons why she hadn't completely lost her will to live; almost like a companion, but nothing more than that. And he also thought they were just friends too, yeah, he did. He was just a tad bit friendlier to her when they were alone, that's all.

But still, she knew that—secretly—he was a thoughtful man, maybe a little too thoughtful when it came to her, and it made her upset sometimes to think that she knew that _he_ knew that it was gonna suck for him to have her leave the gang already. And if she did complete the mission—as determined as she was to—she could leave, and she would, with nothing and no one to stop her. Except she wasn't betting on him actually letting her go. That was the problem.

"Well, it's just another day to ride, huh?" she teased lightly, pulling her hair up in a ponytail; nudging away from him and the creepy thoughts she had. She could faintly feel her dog tags hanging around her neck as she took off her jacket, silver and worn with her dad's name on the front: Rafael Ortiz.

She still remembered the day when he placed it around her neck, kissing her cheek afterward when she told him that she'll wear it forever. He said, _"Mi jita, I will always love you." _Then he left, being stationed in Grenada and died in combat. And even though her papa died, she always had tremendous pride at the fact that he was in the U.S. Army. She would literally brag to everybody she knew in her neighborhood, pointed it out to friends at school, and even remembered how total pride flooded through her as she announced it to close, but distant relatives. Her dad was her hero.

Now that he was gone, his tags were the only identification she had left of herself, of him, and of the life she once knew back in L.A. So she'd have to be extra careful not to lose it. Or be fucked. But that was not an option.

"Or just another day to die…" Army muttered, looking down and buttoning his uniform shirt without much care. She recognized the nervous gesture.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, a quizzical expression on her face. "You plan on dying, _pollo_? This is not the Merchant of Venice, ya know." she added seriously.

With that, Army laughed engagingly and she immediately felt the pressure of their task ease up on him. Weight being lifted. "No, my death sentence is revoked...for now."

"Oh..." she muttered. A moment or two.

And then—

"Wait—what?" she cried out. She eyed him questioningly, her pupils widening at her assessment. What the hell was he talking about? Death sentence? Was he gonna get in trouble for this?

She waited from him to answer, still staring.

After about a minute of stifled laughter, he shrugged finally, understanding the look she was giving him. "Unless they find out about the exposure were putting on the family, I can't be touched. Don't fret. It's not that serious."

"I'd hope not." she said hesitantly, stretching out her words. For Christ's sake, it was La Cosa Nostra! If they didn't know about this, shit…it could end deadly for every one of them.

"So, how 'bout you?" He directed suddenly at her, changing the subject. "With your track record and all, you are considered a 'cheater of death', no?" he said dramatically.

She looked at him with huge eyes in shock. _Are you kidding me right now_, she thought furiously. He wanted to talk about her when _he_ could be the one who had to try and cheat death? God, he was stupid sometimes.

"Luci?"

She turned away from him in silence. Take a fucking hint. She didn't want to talk.

"Luci?" he said almost pleadingly.

And when she still hadn't answered him, he had gone mute. But only for a second before there was a clattered sound of a fist hitting against the top of the steering wheel and she glanced over at him with curious eyes.

"Do I have your attention now?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

She huffed. "Why don't you ask yourself that? Seeing how you probably won't make it out alive if this goes wrong somehow."

At first he looked at her in confusion, averting his eyes to his hands and taking the time to make something of her comment. But the next thing she knew, he said: _I'll be fine_, in one of his reassuring tones, having finally caught on to her words.

She snickered at his attempted consolation. "Yeah right."

"It's true."

Now calming down was hard, but feeling the tension disappear by his earnest gaze was a huge relief. "Well, if you say so…but if we die, and you don't, I'm gonna rise from the fucking grave and kill your ass myself."

"No one's dying, I promise."

"And if must know, now's not a good day to die. I have to get back to—"

"—Oh yeah. Your _master_," he interrupted. "_He_ will be having a crying fit when you don't get back early. He's probably already throwing up all over himself and some hookers on his way out of the bar. Douche bag."

She raised her eyebrows. "Who?"

He shrugged, avoiding her question.

"Army, if you don't tell me who the fuck you're talking about, then I'm gonna cap you one in the ass right now."

There was a slight twitch to his mouth before he answered. "Benito."

She growled viciously. "Arghh! He's not my master! He's some fuckin' asshole who can't even screw his bolts right!"

"Yeah, I know. He has you doing shit for him—a woman. What kind of honor is that?"

Taken aback, she smacked him a hateful punch on his arm with bruising force, then landed another one in his stomach before he could react. She watched with huge satisfaction as he clutched at his stomach in pain, and by the looks of it, she'd guess that she knocked the wind out of him. Good. Serves him right.

"What…the hell…was that…for?" he breathed out roughly, gasping for air.

Humming loudly to herself, she ignored his question and crossed her arms over her chest, towards his direction, looking at him in defense mode with her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes cold as she tried to use one of her famous steel glares, and the meanest scowl to ever plaster on a woman's face.

A registered look of comprehension on his face showed that he finally understood that he had said the wrong thing. "Oh no, no, no, no offense, Luci! What I meant was that, you're more of a badass than a housewife. You should be running the business, not slaving in a kitchen like a servant. But if you want, you could stay—" he said, stretching his hand to touch her shoulder before she cut him off.

"I don't intend on it. Besides, I am a woman and they aren't initiating me anytime soon. So lay off, _pendajo._" she countered.

"I'm ignoring that. But Luci, you're family now—ah, don't you see that!" he added fiercely when she shook her head.

Letty closed her eyes for a moment and pictured herself in his family in an expensive suit with other members surrounding her. The promising future of power, murder, and money. Most women would retreat from that kinda power, from the burden of it, but she wasn't like most women. She was more like an untamed animal with no muzzle or leash, and she loved being as strong as men. Not in the literal sense—ha, ha—no, she just liked having a sense of power over them. Being her own boss and the "call the shots" leader. And hell yeah she could see herself fucking ruling an empire like Cleopatra. She was pretty sure she could handle it.

But as she was thinking this, she suddenly drifted off in another train of thought. She imagined a different group, a more familiar one…her old family. She cringed internally at the thought of the two families meeting. It wasn't a pretty gathering and it was dangerous even.

She saw a mental picture of all of the Team together.

Jesse...Vince...Leon...Mia...

...

Yeah, yeah, she felt nostalgic. It had been a long time of separation, of the passing years, and yet, she could still remember the daily routines of the Team: going to school, working in DT's Auto garage, managing a store, racing at night, and collecting loads of cash. Man, this life would be _way_ different from that; hijacking shit for the mafia, murdering clients by using different tactics, going at war with other mafia families...

Fuck, it was deep shit.

Would she trade her old family for this one? But how could she betray their memory like that? Jesse? And Vince? Leon was here with her, and...she knew about the heist in Rio. Brian and Mia and...

Forget it.

She couldn't adopt a new family that wasn't her own. They were permanent. Bounded to the circle that was family…

But then again, they had crumbled fast, and she hadn't actually considered a new one until this day when Army had mentioned it. Offered her a place...

Whatever. She had all the family she could ever need back home in Mexico. She was stupid to even think that she could get involved in anything else. And she probably couldn't reach that rank if she wanted to—couldn't be a mafia member even if her conscience will allow it. Something about the Sicilian blood and the alpha male rule hindered her to.

"I'm only here on a favor. That's it." she stated finally, making her decision.

Army laughed humorlessly. "And Leon? What 'bout Gio, huh? And Costan? What 'bout me?"

She sighed, being interrogated was such a hassle.

"Leon respects my decision. We were _amici_ way before this. Not to mention I'm helping his punk ass. Gio and I will still keep in contact even if it's for five minutes, and Costan...damn, ain't it obvious? I know what I have to do with him and no one can tell me otherwise. But Army...I can't stay, you know that."

"It's someone else, isn't it? Is it Torreto?" He whispered the last part so she wouldn't hear, but despite the lowered effort, she did.

Letty felt her sharp intake of breath before she felt the lurch of pain in her heart. Ah shit, don't, she pleaded. Please don't, please don't, please don't. Shit, fuck, don't!

She quickly turned her head away, already in too much danger of crying.

The courage she had gained five minutes ago was now being lost in the ugly weakness in her stomach and her burning strength was now being extinguished by the overflow of her drowning sorrow. All because she heard his last name. Toretto.

She didn't want to fucking cry. Not now when her freedom depended on this. Why was it always _this_ topic that was brought up to her? Why? And why did it still have the fucking power to make her cry? To make her vulnerable and puny like a fucking kid? She couldn't deal with this shit. Not now.

But her lips disobeyed her thoughts and she confessed a little of what was kept inside her shaken heart.

"You said your wife left you, _destra_? She went into the witness protection program?" Her voice had become surprisingly soft; a gentle murmur that she never used unless she was emotionally attached. Way _too_ much.

"Right, she divorced me. And then fled to the American country."

"Well..." she bit her lip, reluctant to tell him.

"Well what?" he prompted.

For Army, it was torture. He never once said it out loud, but he needed to know—before he went crazy with snooping–if she still had feelings for the guy. Leon had mentioned it to him once and that was all it took. He couldn't get it out of his head ever since. With trained peripheral vision, he looked at her expectantly, counting the seconds.

Letty leaned her head back on the seat, deciding on whether or not she should tell him.

Army had become a reliable friend that had proven his loyalty through his patience and hard work throughout the year alone. He was trustworthy and not overly authoritive—a cocky dick like most men, and for some odd reason, she felt like she could tell him everything inside herself, every skill, knowledge, last hope, or dream she ever had or still has without holding back. And God knew she needed another hand.

But then when it came to her feelings?

...

Could she really compare him to what was always locked deep inside her chest? To the prized moments of the only man she ever loved, dripping away in her head like oil leaks, memories of her childhood still fresh like it was only a month ago? Could she still share that part of her soul to him with someone else?

Even if he was in the mafia, she overlooked that he was…she guessed a murderer. What she knew was that he was a dignified man who did what was best for them, got them through the darkest of night to the light of dawn, and _he_ could never do that.

So without hesitating a moment longer, she told him what her tattered heart knew, which was the truth. "I was in the same situation. But he...was the one who...left...me."

Numb couldn't even describe what it felt like as the words escaped through her lips. It was more than any kinda hurt she'd ever felt and it was the most painful thing to hear, having it come out of her so easily when she had kept it a secret for nearly two years. Yeah, it had been too long since she talked about it, and it continued to damage her when someone mentioned it, or used any sort of reference.

Dominic Toretto left her. That fucking asshole left her to try and protect her when she didn't want that. She _needed_ him to be with her, not leave her alone as his wasted effort to keep her safe, and to only have her try and search for him all over the fucking place again when he didn't come back. And if she knew Dom, he was probably sucking faces with skanky bitches right now. He always did.

Army gave her a sympathetic look. "Ah, Luci..._mi dispiace._ You are wonderful. You don't need him. You have us now."

Wiping her moisture-filled eyes with her arm, she smiled a little at him—a quirk of the lip—feeling like she was given some sorta hope that maybe she could survive through it all if she had a person like Army to watch her back; her homie.

"We'll figure this out later. For now we stay focus. Okay?"

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever man." Secretly glad to have the topic changed.

He revved up his engine, very keen on starting. "You ready for this?" he asked a little gruffly as his knuckles strained white against the wheel as he tightened his hold.

She shuddered.

Why did every little single word of bullshit remind her of him? And before she could actually put up some resistance, the memory came to her.

* * *

_**"You got this?" Dom asked, boring into her dark eyes with his intense brown ones. His demeanor was serious. **_

_**On heists like these, he was always serious. **_

_**She answered with her own confidence, "You bet your ass, bubba." she leaned in to kiss him and he obliged willingly to match her own lip lock. **_

_**Then pumped up, she yelled out the window. "Let's make some money!" **_

_**And she climbed onto the roof of the 1987 Buick Grand National while he drove...**_

* * *

_Stronzo_, she thought bitterly, returning to the present.

She tied her boot lace roughly, refusing to let herself be tortured with her lonely feelings of Dominic Toretto anymore, and buried it all away. All of it was in the past now. He didn't want her anymore and he chose not to be with her despite her protests.

He. Left. Her.

So why should she feel guilty about ever turning her back on him when she knew he was still on the run?

She shouldn't, but…well...fuck, who cares now.

And as she put her bulletproof vest on and loaded her pistol, she decided that he wasn't part of her worries anymore, making it a promise.

Besides, she was too busy trying to reconnect with her _new_ family. The only family she could ever need...for now.

She looked up at Army, more determined, and whispered with a slight undertone of menace. "Let's do this."

He winked at her. "Gio, Costan, Reinaldo, and Leon take your positions. And follow the coordinates. We are taking back what's ours and that's the honor that they've stolen from us! Revvy them up, boys. _E 'il momento go_! (It's go time!)"

She smirked.

She could just imagine the big guy with her right now...

Fuck!

She wasn't supposed to do this! What was she? A masochist who enjoyed this sorta shit? Ripping her flesh as a reminder that every cut represented Dominic Toretto's mark on her? Maybe she was a masochist. It was fucking sick and pathetic, but that's just what she was nowadays and that's what her past did to her; came back and bit her right in the ass and she liked it.

"The jackwagon is on the move." Army murmured to her playfully and she barked out a laugh suddenly; forgetting her thoughts.

Well, it was time to put the past behind her now and the present in front. It was obvious everyone else had. If she made one slip up she was canned and she couldn't imagine that happening.

"You can ruunnn, but you can't hiidddee." she chanted out in a mocking timbre, ready now to pull this shit off and get it over with. Keeping every loving emotion she ever had for a man on lockdown—especially a bald man named Dominic Toretto.

* * *

**_[1 hour later]_**

"Oh shit, your arm!"

"It's fine! Just a scratch." she spat, gripping her arm tightly as red blood gushed down her army jacket from her shoulder blade. She had another bullet lodged in her leg, but she had to tend to the first one. Thing was bleeding like crazy.

She wretched open the glove department and rummaged for the aid kit. She needed to bind some kind of tourniquet.

"Does that look like a fuckin' scratch! _Ragazza stupida!"_

She glowered at him, "It was not my fuckin' idea to rear their gun truck! They had calibre machine guns!"

In the corner of her eye, she saw Army look her up and down in worry as she put pressure on her leg, and then grimaced as he sighed out shakily. "Look, I'm sorry."

"Of course you are," she said sharply. "Why else would I feel that sorry look upon your face?"

"It could have gone better if you've just listen to my instructions."

"I did! You were the one distracted!" she snapped.

Breathing heavily, Army took another turn in their stolen police cruiser and whirled around through a busy intersection, watching how pedestrians on the sidewalk ran from his flashing lights. "Will you shut up about that? I was improvising."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, it didn't work out too nicely, did it?" she bit out sarcastically

He moved the gearshift again and took a sharp left turn to the bridge. They were almost there. "The Russians updated their shit. Not even the old prototype of the twin barreled gun like we anticipated was there." he said, voice thick with his accent.

Sighing loudly, she decided she wasn't done with the comebacks yet, but was willing to take it up later. Another lance of pain shot through her shoulder and she had to fight off the urge to groan loudly.

"Ugghhh…I guess…"

"Damn it, Luci! Don't say you didn't know."

"Well, it's the goddamn SAM system. What did you expect?" she retorted, feeling nauseous.

"That you loosen up your panties and cut me some slack. We reign hell back there despite your mess ups."

She inhaled angrily, "Oh, Army you could be such a son of a—"

"—Did Leon get a hold of radio commands?" he cut in suddenly. "They might have switched the lines."

She sniffed a little haughtily, "Yeah, but their primary worry is getting the KAMAZ trucks back. They're the designated vehicles they need. And we got those. The grenade launchers pretty much wiped out everything else."

She squeezed her shoulder again, trying to put some pressure on it, pretending it was nothing. Truthfully, it hurt like a mother fucker, but she wasn't going to let him know it. Not yet. He had to get them to the meeting point first, and then address her injuries later. Besides, she's been through worse, thinking of her broken leg and collarbone.

"The Pantsir-S1 better be worth that shit." he mumbled. He noticed how she was biting down on her lip harshly, drawing a little blood.

And she saw in his eyes how he knew it was urgent that she'd be seen soon.

"We got lucky back there, Army. If we hadn't dressed down they would've shot us on sight. It bought us some time." Her husky voice said, contorted with pain.

"That's what military training is for," he said smugly and then seriously. "We'll get you to a medic as soon as we board dock, alright?"

"Oh, yeah, sure you will."—Then probably sounding a little more upbeat—"But you know, it was probably child's play for a crackerjack like you, huh? No wounds?" she praised lightly, trying to ignore the sharp pains running up through her arm.

Goddammit.

He cocked an eyebrow amusedly, "What do you expect? Did you think I studied in law? Or military school?"

**Again, this my first fanfiction and I appreciate any feedback. Be harsh if you have to. Writers like to improve based on reviews. Thanks! **

**NEWER AN: I've made some changes throughout this chapter, sorry if I did, but after I read what I wrote down when I posted it, I started to question myself on whether or not it made any sense. My apologies! If you needed help understanding anything you could always ask and maybe I could give you a sneak peek on what's ahead. **


	4. Getting It Outta His System

**Palolem Beach, ****Goa, India 7:10 p.m.**

**November 12, 2011 **

_My Son Dom, _

_I love you. Your mama will always love you, no matter where I go. And as a Christian woman, I'm certain I will reach heaven's gates, and before long, be reunited with your other family. Don't be sad mio figlio. Our separation will only be for a little while, and I will be smiling on the day we meet again. _

_But if there is ever a time in your life when you feel like it's a little overbearing or too much for you to handle, then I need you to pray. And my dear son, there will come a time when you feel all alone in the world, and there's no one there to help you or comfort you in your darkest days. I know because we have all gone through it at some point in our lives, and I just want you to be prepared for it when it happens. Like now. _

_Your father and I had raised you to be a person of your own, and it wasn't easy to see you grow up so quickly when I remembered just the other day, I was cradling you in my arms as a 10 lb newborn baby. You were such a strong guy, my little soldier. The joy and warmth you gave me as my son will always be cherished in my heart, and it's where you'll always be. Don't ever forget what I taught you. Family is everything. _

_Without it, there is no other bond or love strong enough that you could ever receive. Watch over your sister and make sure she is always taken care of and loved. Listen to your father. He will always tell you everything you need to know, the wrongs from rights, and the way to respect others as you'd respect familia._

_And stay true to yourself, my little mechanic. Never lose sight of who you are; even through the worst of life. You are not only a driver at heart, but a beautiful, sweet young man who knows what he wants to be when he grows up. I'll always remember the look in your eyes when you saw a car for the first time. After that, your father and I could never get you to leave an engine alone. _

_I hope that you know you're not alone. I'm sorry that I cannot be there to watch you become a fine man, or get your driver's license, but if our Heavenly Father had a plan for me, then I will go as I am meant to. I promise I won't be far from you. I may be absent in your presence and you may not see me, mio figlio__…__but I am still around. I'll always be around._

_And remember home will never be too far._

Dominic Toretto read the letter over and over again from his cozy spot on the beach chair. His eyes were misty and almost watering behind his lashes. There was a slight blur in his line of vision and unusual lump in the back of his throat, and he took a deep breath to calm down, but found himself chocking back on the lump instead; feeling the cool wetness on his fingertips

And just when he thought he was never going to stop in his hushed crying state, he was quickly regaining some of his composure. He swallowed deeply and held the tears back in. He wasn't a weeper and he wasn't gonna start now despite everything. Despite his loneliness.

After a minute, he was staring ahead at the broad, open flat beach, taking in the cool breeze of the windy air, and gentle waves of the ocean crashing softly onto the shore; feeling completely at ease with the solitude now.

"Long way from home, ma..." he murmured quietly to the orange-reddish sky, setting the crinkled paper of his mom's farewell letter on his lap.

But as he watched on—the once blazing fiery sun slowly drifting off into the horizon, majestically lowering itself beneath the surface line—a couple passed by him in unison laughter, wrapped around each other in an affectionate embrace.

He stared at them for a while, noting how the man was trying to steal a kiss from the blushing girl, exchanging a playful look of "do I have your permission" with her, and leaning into her to trace his lips lightly along her neck. But she wasn't having it, tossing her head aside before they could connect with hers, and she giggled as he started tickling her; forcing her to choose.

Somehow, she escaped his hold and ran towards the ocean's tide while the man was chasing her.

Dom suddenly felt dejected at the scene playing out in front of him in his lounging and turned away from it. He returned his focus to the letter in his lap and picked it up, reading the last line again. _Home will never be too far._

Home.

Home was hanging out on Sundays with his crew, having another barbeque outside of his house, and feeling nothing but happiness amongst himself and the people surrounding him; all of them sharing the passion of what brought them together in the first place. That was his home and it eluded him

Another abruption of laughter caught his attention, and he looked up to see the man catching the girl and pinning her to the sandy ground. He imagined they'd be sleeping together that night—lying peacefully in each other's arms—and whispering nonsense to one another. The cliché' I love you's.

Putting the letter back in his jacket, he folded his arms across his chest and slumped back against the chair, one boot heel tucked underneath the other; feeling bitter and unaccompanied.

He looked towards sky, waiting for the twinkling expansion to appear above him, and he instantly felt like he's never admired anything so intensely than when he watched the tiny sparkles of light in the pitch darkness. Just like the metropolis of L.A., the glamor of Hollywood, shrouded by the glimmer of traffic and street racing cars passing through with the ostentatious paint job, the customized decals, and the undercarriage lighting.

His eyebrows furrowed together.

He was king of the streets then and now...he wasn't known for his driving reputation or his mechanic skills. When people saw him, if they recognized his face, they are given only one clear mental picture: 25 to life mugshot.

A criminal.

The segments on the news or the reports in the newspapers having confirmed every allegation against him, except for the murders of those DEA agents, as a criminal was spot on. He had destroyed the city of Rio, stolen drug money from a drug lord Reyes, and started over in another country. He was a criminal—not a murderer, or rapist as others were, but a criminal all the same, and he wasn't denying it.

What was there to deny? His records were brick and solid proof of the many mistakes he's made since his father—his pops, the stock racing legend—passed away, and left the responsibilities of being a guardian up to him. He hadn't immediately taken up the position like an adult should've as the man of the house, the one in charge. No, instead, he nearly beat a man to death with a socket wrench. Spent the next two years in Lompoc…

But after that slip-up, he fed off of the need to protect his family with any given cost to himself. Although he continued to street race with his Team and earn them a wad of cash or two, he managed to still live a double life of stealing millions of dollars in merchandise, getting import parts for their cars, and working against the clock in the garage. He promised himself they would survive even if he had to pay for it. And he had, but through the lost lives of his team… something he never intended, something he promise to prevent.

And now he was a runner from the law, and although he ran to a bunch of random hideouts, his current residence was Goa, India.

Occasionally, he did travel back and forth in countries to visit his brother-in-law Brian, his baby sister Mia, and his precious new born niece in the Canary Islands. He planned on settling down there with his own garage once he was ready to reestablish himself. But at the last minute, he changed his plans and found a nice villa on this piece of land.

And it didn't happen often, but he'd return to Rio, the beautiful place of waterfalls, mountains, and culture. He hadn't bought any property there, and actually never intended on living in the tropical paradise, but he'd visited sometimes. For Elena—that's another story he couldn't quite figure out yet.

He shook the thought away. Better not to venture down that path.

Today, he was offered a beach house—somewhere near Mia's place—and was kinda tempted to leave Goa. But instead of staying with his sister and her little family in their rhapsody, he took off on his new private jet, and headed straight back to India where he landed just in time to see the sun go down. It was a beautiful afternoon, and an even more beautiful evening, and although he left unexpectedly, he was glad he didn't miss it.

He loved his family and he considered the buster family now too, but he had to give it more time. He still hadn't gotten used to the idea of being a third wheel (of Mia and her happy circle of family). It was still a bit awkward and uncomfortable for him to see the roles that Mia and Brian played now. He wouldn't admit it, but jealousy was the dominant emotion that he felt when he observed their small displays of happiness with their kid. So he decided to leave. Before he grew more and more envious.

Goa was actually very stunning at night. Visitors and tourists would come and go as they pleased, the beach filled with caters who were irksomely crossing his path to offer their services, but as soon as it was dark enough, he was left alone with only his thoughts; his arm cradled against his chest as he lay on his back, staring up at the cluster of stars. He had his feet buried underneath the sand and he was just starting to get comfortable, when...

_WEEEE-ERRRRR! WEEEE-ERRRR! _came from out of nowhere and he found himself sitting up quickly in a panic.

Fuck. What a way to ruin his vacation.

He moved so that he was sprawled out, lying on his stomach behind his medium-sized cooler, and looked around him nervously, finally spotting the police cruiser that was heading towards his car, and stilled. Traffic patrol. Mostly likely aware of illegal modifications. Of NOS…

Shit.

The anxiety of being caught now had his heart pacing at full throttle, but he didn't move. His pride wouldn't let him and if they wanted to try and arrest him for his car, he knew they'd better be ready to deliver all they got 'cause he was ready to resist. They could count their asses on it.

Surprisingly though, the police car didn't approach his car, and he relaxed a little as they passed by it and him without notice; their red and blue lights flashing back and forth and their annoying siren wailing loudly in pursuit.

However, it stopped two blocks away and he narrowed his eyes more to get a better look at what they were chasing.

He smirked.

It didn't make sense to be so calm now—hell, maybe it wasn't sane, but he didn't feel as alert as he should've been. Especially after his experience with cops like Hobbs, but he recognized a lawbreaker—foreigner—when he saw one, and he knew that all the attention would be on him for awhile.

The two cops, who stepped out of the car in uniforms, were only six feet away from him, having stopped the foreigner with the nice Acura RSX car. Expensive car it looked like and definitely something that someone had put a lot of money and tool work into.

The cops had flashlights in hand, and were shining it closely towards the beach and his own car, but he just laid there on his stomach, unmoving. _Can't draw attention, gotta stay low_, he thought as he recited it to himself.

Unfortunately, they saw him. So this is how it's gonna end, huh?

He had known a long time ago that running wasn't that hard for him anymore. It was instinctual as breathing, so he'd do what he'd have to if they ever headed his way for questioning—even if it meant outrunning the law in one of the only non-extradite countries with the U.S—and leaving the place for good. But they never gave him or his car a second glance as they turned their flashlights on the man.

He frowned in confusion. Maybe this guy had something on him in this country. Drug trafficking was common in some of these countries.

Dom watched curiously, looking at the exchange between the lawbreaker and the officer of the law, and was a little amused by it.

He thought about his own little standoff with Hobbs in Rio. It was bold on his part, but pretty embarassing on his. Wandering around in uncharted territory like he owned Brazil was not wise of him, but he had the reputation and had _AAAAALLLLL_ the upper hand there. Too bad Hobbs didn't see it coming.

Chuckling, he directed his attention back to the man stepping in front of them and cooperating in the pat down procedure, but was suddenly caught off guard at how the driver—Italian possibly—slapped away a ticket from the traffic cop's hand, and whipped out a pistol gun; pointing it directly at the cop's head as his right hand shook visibly; trying to hold it against his temple.

Shit. The punk was trying to get himself killed. And worse than that, he himself had to witness the crime when he was already in trouble with the law. What was the guy thinking? Dumb buster didn't stand a chance.

The next moment he wasn't able to form any words in his mind, when the driver, suddenly—stupidly—pulled the trigger, and then sighed out a huge breath of relief when he realized it wasn't loaded, and the stupid driver did, too; anxiously looking up at the cop.

Swallowing, the driver raised his hands up in surrender, but only for a second before he kneed one of the traffic cops in the groin, the one that was reaching behind him for—well, it don't matter, and hit the other with the back of his gun, and swiftly climbed back into his car.

Probably wasn't right for him to react the way he did, but he was barely able to contain a throaty laugh when the two cops stumbled up from the ground, struggled to get inside their cruiser, and collided into a line of cars parked down the dirt stretch while the foreign driver in the Acura RSX was speeding off towards the opposite direction after whirling around in a 180, and accelerating forward in a blur of speed and _vvvrrrroooom!_

He watched the guy until he was out of his line of sight then shook his head. Pussies. All of them.

The guy should've never attempted homicide on the cop-if he didn't want to serve time for it, and those cops should've already been equipped and prepared to handle that sorta thing. He knew Brian would've been. Very shitty situation, but at least the guy was smart enough to get away with the attempted murder. Not that he applauded his effort, but his driving skills? Somewhat impressive.

'Cause here he was, thinking he was gonna have to injure a cop or lawbreaker with nothing but his bare hands if they were to stir trouble his way, and he wouldn't have wanted to risk it.

With a gruff sigh, he got up to stand—knowing he had to head back to his pad before they came back—being a witness. He dusted off the sand from the right side of his khaki pants and brushed tiny specks of dirt from his white long sleeved t-shirt before he made his way over to his Dodge Challenger, making sure to grab his jacket from the chair.

He stretched all of his muscles, popped his back, and yawned loudly. It was a long day and he was beat.

Slowly, he got to the driver's side of his black, sleek car, and rubbed the top of his bald head with his callous hands in his tiredness. The front grille had been replaced after his race with Brian; a one shot of trying to beat him fair and square in a quarter mile race, but it hadn't gone well in his favor. The persistent man pulled a fast one on him and got his victory. He had been bragging about it for weeks and Dom made a silent vow to get back his title of the best driver between him and the buster. Like he said, winning's winning. But he wasn't used to losing on purpose.

When he finally got in his car and closed the door, he suddenly had a strange feeling that something—like that freak accident over there—was gonna happen to him soon. But then he sniffed arrogantly. It was probably just the nerves talking.

He pulled out of the coastline of the beach, turning up the radio to blast away his thoughts before they could return back to the hit and run he just saw. Except they already had.

One thing's for sure about that offence, his parents wouldn't have been proud of him. He had been caught once by the Fed's and was given a maximum sentence of 25 years to life at Lompoc without the possibility of parole, and he knew that no bargain or plea could've changed their minds. Clemency just wasn't his for the taking and he couldn't earn it for any good deed he brought.

_One right does not make up for a lifetime worth of wrongs._

Those words still haunted him every day, wherever he went. It was like he was already made to believe he wasn't deserving of redemption or any other type of salvation. Like he was fucked for life. But letting that committed crime in front of him just slide…sealed his fate as a backer of scofflaws.

He drove slowly, vaguely aware of the beach shack restaurants and coconut palms he passed by. Yeah, his old life couldn't be fixed, so he had to settle for a new one…but so far, it wasn't working out. Glancing at that sunset had made up for his exhausting day though, and it brought back a sense of warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt since…since he last rested in his bed as a child, in his home, and in his mom's arms.

She was a tender woman, almost too gentle for a madre, but the half Spanish blood that ran in her veins also gave her that spunk that most feisty Latina women had. She had an upbeat spirit that couldn't be crushed—and like his pops—was a believer in all things good. He loved strong women. He grew up in a house of two: his mom and his sister.

Yeah, Mia had inherited her mom's attitude, but she never had quite the compassion that tended to overlook people's faults like his ma did. Mia was the exact opposite. If he screwed up, she'll let him know it. She never held anything back.

Over the past year though, she seemed to have stopped being the confrontational type. It must've been a maternal thing.

He smiled to himself at the memory of his sister. He missed her a lot when she was at home and he was trekking the world, taking advantage of his freedom…

But this freedom, no..._This_ freedom wasn't his.

Freedom to him was racing in his car with that same familiar feeling he had in high school; the rush of pure adrenaline in his body, taking in the distinctive whiff of exhaust and brand new seat interior, and clutching the throttle when he should. Freedom was to feel the power of the indestructible machine—of his car—and the control, in his hands with an emitted fire blazing in his soul while his car surged forward in a dangerous threat of acceleration; the thrill of the ride and the challenge of the road, now that was what he called freedom.

But the luxury of racing was taken from him when his demons were set loose in L.A. He could no longer race as he did and was subjected to this lifestyle. He had become a wanted man and no matter how many obstacles got in his way, he was forced to keep moving. Without ever turning back. He could never go home.

Home...yep, that was another foreign concept. Home was where his family was...

His familia was gone. His old family—the Team—was gone permanently. Vince, Jesse, Leon…

And the new family, well, they've gone their separate ways, to different locations in the world, and were living different lives.

Brian and Mia in the Canary islands with his baby niece. He knew that Tej and Roman were managing their own garage somewhere. Han and Gisele, the odd couple, were traveling in Europe, doing God knows what. Europe was a romantic country. Tego and Santos were in Monaco. Gambling like rich idiots. And he was there in Goa, India while his current girlfriend, Elena, was back in Rio.

He pulled up to his villa, parking in front of it and turning the ignition off.

It had been a long travel to get back to India without being noticed by the Brazilian woman when he left her two weeks ago. He couldn't be more obvious, but she didn't suspect anything wrong. Why would she?

He never said it out loud, but he never imagined he'd live to see the day he'd date a cop. He never expected it, it just sorta happened, and that was something he couldn't understand yet. He wasn't sure if she acknowledged it either. She used to work with Hobbs, the jarhead in the DSS that was tracking him down, and he had had his suspicions on whether or not she would turn him in.

But she never did. She never faltered and he guessed it was 'cause she was consistent in only one thing, and that was being in a relationship with him.

So why didn't it matter to him, then? Why didn't she count as home?

_Because_—a treacherous voice rumbled inside of him—_she's not who you really want_. He laughed at his inner voice. Really? Who did he want then? He didn't have to look far into himself to know who exactly that was.

Letty...

He found his heart ache painfully at the thought of her. Of that gorgeous Puerto Rican, Dominican face with her full pink lips and high cheekbones. _She_ was who he was really missing, who he coveted to have back. It had been two years since her death and he never gotten over her. Ever.

He closed his eyes and envisioned the beautiful woman he once held in his arms. Her wide penetrating dark eyes that were like the shade-tinted windows that saw what was in his heart—buried deep down inside his chest.

If there's one special thing that Letty had—and he wasn't lying when he admitted it—but she had the kind of eyes that looked past all his bullshit and focused mainly on the good. And even though he was a stubborn man, she found even if they were wrong, that she accepted the motives being driven in his core. She stood by him; the sensible, bold woman that she was.

He missed her husky laughter, the obnoxious and loud sound, starting a rumbling in his throat that was like a key turning into an ignition, bringing the roaring of an engine to life. It was that simple. She brought out his humorous side. Witty and charming as she was with him, he found her sarcasm and comebacks irresistible.

Her Latin curves, toned flat stomach and hips dressed in her sexy leather-clad and laced outfits that only a tough chica like Letty could pull off. Even if it were provocative at such a young age, he noticed and didn't complain one bit. Well, unless she was asking for it—which she didn't happen _too_ often.

And that hair...her wild tousled hair. Loose strands hanging from her ponytail... It was one of the most captivating things about her. She didn't really give a fuck how it was styled. She let it loose and free. Just like she was in being.

She was the girl who knew how to handle a wrench. Who knew how to change tires, replace valve springs, and install turbochargers. Cars were her life, just like they were his.

She was never afraid to get a little engine grease under her fingernails...

20 percent angel.

80 percent devil.

Down to earth.

Yeah, that was his Letty.

She could've been here right with him. Right by his side where she belonged.

But because of him, she was in the cemetery—her body six feet under the dirt—and that's what killed him the most. She had died to try to earn his freedom, to try and be with him, and he had let her down in the end. He had failed her. When she needed him the most, he wasn't there. It had always been his sole duty, his main responsibility, as a teenager to protect her. He watched and protected her when she was a child, but as an adult he left her...He left her to be slaughtered in the fucking dog eat dog world.

Her body was in a grave far away from where he was sitting in his car at his villa; thinking about her. Her soul up in Heaven…watching him...

Dom, as if drunk, had no inhibitions. He put his head on the steering wheel and wept.

**AN: Sorry if these chapters are long. I've been working on them for months and I haven't been able to cut them down as much. Tell me what you think!**


	5. Lost in Paradise

**AN: Very sorry about the long update. I've been sick with the flu and I've been struggling to write this chapter. What I decided to do is make a pattern of chapters that will have one of the other character's POV before Letty's POV and Dom's. This one is Brian. Hope this is alright. If I made any mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out. Thanks!**

* * *

**Telerife, Spain, Canary Islands 12:53 a.m.**

**May 3rd, 2012**

Brian O'Conner laid awake next to his fiancé's body, unable to sleep with his contentment on high like no drug could ever bring an addict or skydiving could bring a thrill seeker. He was wordlessly listening to the sound of her breathing, loving the way her chest rose with every breath, and savoring every snore like the world would go to hell if he didn't.

He trailed his long fingers down the curvature of her back—gliding them up and down in a rhythm—and he chuckled to himself when she instinctively moved into his hand, despite her endless slumber. She was overly responsive to him these days—more so than the usual innocent ways, and he too was getting restless to have her all to himself again.

He put his hand on the slim column of her golden neck, then slowly ran a hand down her thick dark hair which was like a tangle of waves on the linen sheets.

Mia Toretto. The love of his life.

From the first moment he saw her, even when he was undercover, he knew he was in love with her. He was LAPD cop then, and a rookie in the force. His job was to find out who was hijacking from truck drivers—their cargo of merchandise worth millions of dollars—and turn them in.

They got a tip about Dom and his crew and he was assigned to figure out if it was true.

He'd go to their store every day to see Mia and order the exact same thing; asking her how the tuna was and they would share their playful banter until one day Vince butted in. They both kicked each other's asses that day too, but eventually he got Mia to go out on a date with him…

Then he broke her heart when she found out he was a cop…

A lot has changed since.

He had become a better man than he was when he deceived others just 'cause it was his job—even if he was a fugitive or whatever the Fed's wanted to portray him as. He realized that he didn't want to be a liar and a person who pretended what he was doing was right. Like Mia had put it: _the bad guy pretending to be good._

So he created his _own_ code to live by, 'cause nothing matter if there was no moral for his life, and his code was to live only for these two girls in this house.

He looked outside the door and over at the pink room where he knew his 7 month little angel's chest fluttered up and down. Graciela Torie O'Conner, his cutie pie.

He'd be there for her, no matter what.

Even under difficult circumstances, he would be there for her to protect her and keep her happy and safe. He wouldn't leave her like his dad had left him. No, he wasn't going anywhere. This is where he belonged.

Here, to raise his baby girl to be an adult, and he would teach her how to ride a bike, help her out with her homework, and be there for her when she took her first driver's test. She would teach him how to be a father and how to love unconditionally. She would give him the joy of that and he would give her everything else.

He smiled.

She had the cutest set of eyes he's ever seen: dark brown. She had her mother's nose and his light brown hair. It was kinda unreal to see their features, sprang to life on his infant girl, but it was even harder to believe that she was theirs.

He sighed. The two loves of his life.

Without them both, he would have nothing. There was no refuting that. He loved his girls so much. He loved them more than any Nissan Skyline GT-R he ever owned. And he _loved_ his cars.

How could he be so lucky after what happened in L.A.? How did he deserve it? A voice in the back of his head said that he didn't and that he got extremely lucky.

He thought about Dom then and how he lost Letty. He was dating that Elena, yeah, but his heart always belonged to Letty. He knew that.

He only wished that Dom would forgive him someday—eventually find peace and then maybe—when he was ready—could start a family of his own.

* * *

"Brian?" a woman's voice said. "Wake up."

He rolled over in his sleep, burying his head deeper into the cushioned pillow, and scratching at the back of his neck; his body still drained and relaxed from the night before.

"Brian?" The sweet, calm voice continued to say, and he mumbled something inaudible back. Something like: _hmm, racetrack_.

"BRIAN!"

He snapped his head up to the loud yell, and was both surprised and pleased to see that it was Mia—gorgeous, tanned, toned, and sexy, leaning over his ear.

"Mia?" he said groggily, voice still raspy with sleep.

"Morning," she said with a beautiful smile. "Are you sleeping on purpose?"

He looked around him, confused. "No. Why?"

She moved to sit right next to him, her soft hand stroking the back of his head. "I know what you were doing last night, Brian. I felt your hands."

He grinned at her. "Oh, and you were just allowing it. Who knew you were the giving type."

She nailed a light punch in his arm and he replied with fake shock. "Ow."

Mia laughed. "You know my brother's downstairs. He flew in just this morning and if he heard you talking that way—"

"He'll threaten to break my neck?" he guessed.

She smiled coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he laid himself back onto the bed with her on top of him. "He already threatened you before about that. He wasn't able to break your neck then, but he still has the time to do it now…if I let him."

Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the lips—just a small peck at first, but then a lingering kiss. Next thing he knew, they were fusing their lips together, deepening their tongues more into their mouths, and getting more hot and heavy with their bodies pressed against each other. He flipped so that he was on top and had her hands pinned above her head; their lips were goin' wild with each other like they were just rediscovering what they tasted like.

And they lost track of time.

Seconds...

Minutes...

10 minutes...

When they finally broke apart, she said mischievously against his lips," But I might still need you for something else."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" he teased lightly; a little breathless.

She reached down between them and into his boxers and he gasped at the contact of her hand. "This."

She started rubbing him.

_Damn, that felt he good_, he thought, and he knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face then. He gazed down at her with lust-filled eyes and she gave him a flirtatious smile.

"I don't mind that."

He started kissing her again, licking the top of her luscious lip, and gripping her hips tighter into his.

"Brian." she tried saying in between their kisses, but he refused to let her speak; bringing his mouth harder onto hers.

He drew his lips away when he knew she needed air and kissed down her neck, taking in the floral scent off her skin. She smelled too good like a mixture of violets, lilies, sandalwood, green citrus, and some kinda spice. Smelled like heaven to his nostrils.

"Brian." she said forcefully and he stopped.

He saw the disapproval in her eyes and frowned. "What?"

"We can't." she said hesitantly.

He groaned. "Mia? Please? Just—once? It couldn't hurt."

"Brian…" she sighed and before he could protest she gave him a pointed look.

Recognizing the fire when it flared, he slowly backed off to let her get up, knowing he'd have to wait a little longer before she'd cave in. She was just as hungry as he was. It wouldn't take long.

"Come on. He's waiting to talk to you."

"Hold up," he said getting up to go to the closet and started rummaging in it for a blue cotton t-shirt. "Can't go down dressed like this. It's too revealing."

Silence.

When she hadn't respond, he looked over at her with raised eyebrows and saw her gazing at him with desire. He smiled again.

"Or should I go down like this?"

After hearing that, she rolled her eyes at him. "Okay Brian. Hurry up."

He grabbed a pair of jeans and winked at her.

_I want you too babe._

...

Once he was ready, they both went down, hand in hand, coming down the steps. Upon seeing the large man in the living room, he yelled, "Yo, Dom!"

Both he and Mia smiled when he looked up.

Dom was sitting in a reclining chair, holding onto his baby niece—Graciela, Gracie, he called her—and was reading her a book called One Fish, Two Fish—eh, a book by Dr. Seuss. He was about to read about the part where the fish had a car when the two suddenly walked in; gracing him with their presence at last.

Mia walked leisurely up to him, kissed his forehead, and reached forward to grab Gracie. Dom gave her a tiny kiss on the side of her cheek before he handed her over to her mom.

"I'll just be outside." she said calmly, then left outside to the backyard, leaving the two of them alone.

"Hey," Dom said, standing up and giving him a brotherly hug. "Thought I told you I was comin' over."

He shrugged, "Yeah, well, you know me. I didn't get any extra sleep last night to remember."

Dom grinned with a slight twitch of his mouth. "Aww, the buster's gone soft."

"Yeah, a baby could do that to ya and…" He looked out at the screen door that Mia left through, and then grinned, "A sex-driven woman," his mind wandering back to their previous make out session.

He watched how Dom grimaced at the meaning. "Hey, I don't need the details."

"Yeah, sorry. How's your car?" he asked suddenly and Dom made a grunt noise from the back of his throat.

"It's cool, but I still haven't forgiven you for that."

Brian smiled, thinking back on his race with Dom seven months ago.

* * *

_The leather seat crunched when he slid in behind the wheel, but he paid no attention to it as he turned the key in his ignition, and listened in awe at how the engine of his Nissan GTR purred to life._

_The previous conversation he had with Dom was still playing inside his head: _

"_**You know, I want another shot." he said, looking over at Dom who turned his head around to meet his blue eyes after just peering out at the tropical view of Mia, and his girlfriend Elena talking to each other on the beach chairs. **_

_**Dom grinned a little, maybe amused by his words. "Yeah?" **_

"_**Yeah. No wagers. Nobody else. Just you and me, once and for all." His deep tone made it so that he sounded serious—which he was, and that he wanted that shot. **_

_**Dom laughed and stared over at their cars parked in the driveway. "Ha. You sure you can handle the disappointment?"**_

_**He didn't falter. "Are you?"**_

_**Dom had a wide grin spreading across his face that said what he himself was waiting to hear for weeks on end. "All right, O'Conner. Let's see what you got..."**_

* * *

_**[A few hours later]**_

_He was scanning the terrain, the rural area that was desert land made up of nothing but rocks, rocks, and bigger rocks. The cracked road they were racing on—with rusty guardrails—was gonna be hard to dodge with the dips, but nothing he can't handle though._

_They were waiting near the countryside, taking a public road somewhere near Teide. It was getting dark and Dom said there were no cars around with it being deserted at the moment, so they were doing it._ _They were gonna race. _

_"You sure 'bout this, Brian?" _

_He looked over at the large, muscled built of Dom sitting in his car; his mentor and best friend. He was in his black wife beater and baggy tan pants and he knew there was a chain linked to his back pocket—is sense of style never changed. He had his jaw set, his eyes focused, and his mouth pursued tightly. _

_He recognized the meaning of the concentrated look on the surface: determination. In his mind, he probably knows he's gonna win this thing, _he thought amusedly_. 'Cause he had to. If he didn't then he was no longer the street racing champ. His reputation was lost._

_He watched as Dom ran his eyes over his silver metallic car—at the pristine gleam and the bodily work–measuring it with his steady gaze and the usual pokerface._

_And after a minute of observing, Dom scoffed loudly at him, "0-60 in 3.4 seconds, buster. Who's cheating now?"_

_He responded quickly, a smile forming on his lips. "Well, we both know how you love to use NOS Dom."_

_"Yeah, just like those piston rings you fried..." Dom reminded with an uplift of his cheek. _

_He grinned sheepishly. He remembered that. _

_Then, he was a careless thinker, only wanting to impress and win over the street racing King—doing whatever it took to stand side by side with him as a worthy opponent. Now, Dom's reign as a glorified driver with a winning streak—one that was never touched and never beaten before—was soon to be reckoned with by him, the gear head and the surfer-type man from Barstow. The man he was today._

_But then he remembered the last race they had—the million dollar quarter mile race—and he remembered how Rome said he let off on the throttle and let him win. But he wasn't gonna do it this time. Not today. Dom had his serious face on._

_"That 6 speed automatic dual clutch transmission ain't gonna help you in the long run." Dom said suddenly as if reading his mind on his car specifications._

_"Oh yeah, how's that?" he replied coolly, trying not to seem nervous._

_"I got the 6 speed manual transmission car and I know how to use it," Dom said confidently, revvying his engine again, the monstrous roar of the Challenger STR8 definitely making a chickenshit out of him. "All muscle."_

_"We'll see Dom. And by the way, I might not start in on the jokes. 'Cause whoever wins this, gets the bragging rights."_

_Dom cocked an eyebrow. "What ever happened to respect?"_

_He shrugged. _

"_Choose your words carefully O'Conner." Dom warned. _

_"We're not racin' for pink slips anymore," he explained as he opened the car door and plopped himself down in the seat. "This is a one shot between you and me. Whoever wins, wins. Whoever loses...loses the respect." _

"_Gotta be a poor sport to make up that rule."_

"_Nah, it just defines a man who can't handle it when he loses." Which was the exact same thing. _

_Dom looked at him strangely and he smiled as he rolled the window up, letting him decide what it meant._

_"Whatever," Dom said turning his face away and then back, "You ready for this kid?" _

_Revying again._

_And he in turn stared intently over at the hulky man, eyes boring into his with focus. "Are _you_ ready for the disappointment?" he countered. _

_Dom laughed, shaking his head. "Buckle up your seatbelt, Brian. You might not make it out of this one alive." _

_He did as he was told, but on his own willing accord. He didn't doubt that Dom's Challenger was packing a lot of horsepower. His V8 engine along with the 6.1 L Hemi made it impossible not to be scared._

_However, he knew his car and the all-wheel-drive could have an advantage. It's just a matter of knowing how to maneuver it, brake it, clutch it, and drive it. If he can drive and not lose control while breaking little traction on all four wheels, uh, well then maybe he could just drift while still maintaining some kinda grip._

_He just hoped the city had the roads for it._

_They both pulled up out of the side of the road and lined themselves up so the front of their cars were aligned next to each other and underneath the traffic light; one foot pressed lightly on the gas while other was still on the clutch, both their eyes looking over their gauges and their readouts on their new modified computers they both installed. Their right hands grasped the gearshifts while their left hands gripped their steering wheels. Ready. _

_They waited anxiously for the traffic light to turn green, saying silent prayers._

_When the traffic light did turn green, they both stepped off the clutch and floored it, the deafening sound of tires hurtling off the pavement, leaving smoke behind. _

_Immediately, he felt it—that sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing in his ears and trembling off his fingertips—and he drew a long breath as the excitement built up in him. They were toe and toe, neck and neck, and he knew he needed to gain the lead before Dom did. He switched into the other gear and watched how Dom did the same thing, thunderously rolling forward. _

_His focus was mainly on the road, but he thought about his car too._

_Yeah, Dom may have pointed out how his car had a strong automatic transmission, but he was doing this all manually. Not just 'cause he didn't have a choice, but he wanted to show him up and prove his status as the best skilled driver by his _own_ hands, not his car's. _

"_C'mon, Dom. Whatchu got?"_ _he shouted out towards him from his window._

_Dom gave him one of his cocky smirks and shifted again, leaving him behind._

"_Nope. Not this time."_

_And he shifted up on the gearshift, pushing him next to Dom, but before he could think about his window of opportunity, he saw a pair of headlights in front of him and he cursed silently, trying to weave in front of Dom so he could miss the old truck. _

_And although he did, Dom took advantage of his position behind him and bumped into him coming up, making his car scrape against the guardrail beside him, and almost careen into a thicket of wild bushes before he swerved back onto the road; a very narrow road that pitted him against the rail again. _

_Shit!_

_Panicked now, he realized he had to readjust his hold and direction of his car. Sparks were shooting out from the friction and heat, and he knew he had to steer his car away from it before the shit caught on fire. Both of them were speeding across a small bridge, tires screeching and motors screaming, but his was earsplittingly loud as the clashing of metal on metal was grating off the side of his car._

_Getting ahold of himself and ignoring his nerves, he managed to pull away from the rail and move back within the center road lane. _

Alright here we go_, he thought. _

_They were racing downhill on a dirt road now, Dom's engine revving violently in front of his Nissan GTR as they turned a corner. The roads were getting steep and more narrow, becoming dangerous to follow, and he knew the winding of the trail ahead was gonna have to be considered; the route by the mountains was leading towards vast rock boulders, a low cliff on the side, and if they were gonna have any chance of surviving their cars, then they had to have an ending point, a finish line. _

_And then he saw it. _

_There was a neon spray painted line on the road near the end, right by the crew of people—strangers?—waiting down the sideline, and he decided he's gonna have to gun it once he gets down. _

_But Dom's Challenger was already raging forward in a charge of astonishing speed. He got to the turn where the low cliff was, straightening to go ahead. Except Brian, full of nothing but resolve, swerved his car in a drift like motion and into the back end of his car, to the tail lights, and knocked him off course. _

_A bead of sweat trickled down his face as he whirled back onto the road and pushed the nitrous button. He felt his car surge forward in blurring acceleration and gritted his teeth at the heavy vibration. _

_And before he knew it, his heart rate was bouncing hard against his chest when he crossed the neon line._

_He won. _He_ won._

_Swiftly recovering from his shock, he took his foot off the gas, and yelled out his window, "YEAH! HA HA! WHOO!"_

* * *

He remembered the conversation he had with Dom _after_ their race.

_"So I probably shouldn't brag, but..." he trailed off as he pulled up beside Dom with a huge smile on his face. _

_Dom was slumped in his car, gripping his steering wheel tightly with his large hands; his face was emotionless. "You hit the rear end of my car and nearly drove me over the edge of a mountain. Then you launched in front of me like a bullet when I was lookin' for a safety course so I wouldn't flip near the ledge." _

_Then Dom looked over at him with a composed face. "I say you cheated."_

_He laughed then, shaking his head. "Well, I wasn't aware there were any rules," using Dom's own words against him. "Winning's winning."_

_Dom's composed face seemed to change in that instant, and instead of the hooded eyes he was used to, he got to see those unfathomable eyes, openly glaring at him. _

_"You got some balls sayin' that. Alright, I'll let you take this one O'Conner, but next time we race, I'm not lettin' you win that way."_

_Brian nodded. "Fine with me. Just hope you know that I wasn't planning on being gentle." Then he added as an afterthought, "You never were." _

_After that he drove down the dirt road with his head high, beaming in his victory._

* * *

He slapped Dom on the back and said wittily. "Gotta let that go, Dom."

And as he headed outside to the backyard, he saw how Dom shook his head in amusement and followed him.

They both got outside just in time to see how Mia was sitting by a flush of roses and encouraging their daughter to touch the petals. Graciela was hesitating at first—with a very focused look on her face—but then she was slapping her hand down the roses playfully, giggling at the way they bobbled back and forth.

Both he and Dom smiled faintly at the sight. She was the cutest most playful girl they knew. And her beauty and laughter was one to be treasured and never forgotten.

They stood watching for a while at the mother and daughter interaction, but Brian—still a little tired from the night before—decided to be the first between the both of them to sit down at the round table, leaning himself back against the rest of his chair.

"So what's going on now? How're things?" he asked casually. Hopefully as great as it was for him.

Dom sat down by one of the chairs next to him, but he didn't say a word. His eyes were troubled. "As good as they'll ever get." he replied finally, not relaying anything.

Brian sat quiet and waited patiently. Dom talked when he felt like it. He wasn't really a talking man, but if he had any words of wisdom or if he wanted to make something clear then he had a mouth full.

But when he still hadn't answered though, he said,"Well, I'm all ears."

And Dom looked away from him then with a forced chuckle, "Shoulda known you'd say that."

"Why? Have you taken over the streets of Goa? You gone rogue too?"

They shared a laugh at that and he saw Dom slowly sit back in his chair. "Nah, I just haven't been able to…" he trailed off before staring out in the distance

"What is it?"

"I've been…"

Dom stopped again and he watched in concern at how he let his head fall back with his eyes closed.

What's going with him? He looked like...like shit.

"Dom, look," he said after a moment, leaning forward. "You know that we both have done some shit throughout the years that aren't justifying, and we're screw ups sometimes, but we have a chance now to make it right. You could trust me about not judgin' you. I've got everything I need here."

Dom lazily opened his eyes to peer at him. "Yeah, you got lucky."

He smiled. "It's a trip."

And as if he struck a chord, Dom stared at him with a steady gaze. "You take care of them, no matter what. They're your family now Brian. I don't want them gettin' hurt or abandon."

_I won't abandon them_, he thought and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. I love her. I love them both. I'm not leavin' for anything."

"Yeah, I know….You guys have a good thing going on here. Very stable."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them again and he saw Dom look over at Mia and Gracie; his eyes desolate.

Tugging at a string on his sweatshirt, he gathered up the courage to ask what was wrong. "C'mon, Dom, you can't leave me hangin' here." he said in a worried tone.

When it looked like he wasn't gonna respond, Dom grunted suddenly. "It's just….you have somethin' special, Brian. You have a daughter and someone who loves you that you love back. Me? I don't…have that."

Dom stared down at his lap and Brian felt the need to hug his miserable-looking friend.

But instead, he settled for comforting words, "She knew you loved her Dom. She always knew it. She did what she had to at the time—and I'm sorry that I wasn't able to save her—but she was determined to be with you. And," he paused before continuing, "Maybe she'd want you to be happy now."

He held in a little of his breath as he let Dom sink that in. He knew that Dom didn't have to raise his head to let him know he understood who he was talking about. And he never did. He stood up from his chair with a vacant expression on his face and walked over to where Mia and Gracie were.

_Well, it was a long shot_, he thought dejectedly.

He stared over at the large form of Dom and thought about how much he's changed since Letty had died. He hardly smiled anymore, but when he did it wasn't the same smile as the man he saw back at the garage or at his house in L.A. It was different. The smile never reached his eyes.

"And maybe it never will…" he said to himself as he stood up from his chair and went inside to grab a beer. Maybe it never will.

* * *

**Moscow, Russia, Underground Complex 8:22 p.m.**

**(Spoken in Russian)**

There was a tunnel of chambers that a group of men were walking through at night being led by a woman.

She was wearing a white belted trench coat with a white furry hat. Her eyes were icy light blue and her figure was tall and lean. She had set of keys in her hand and she was twirling them around on one of her fingers; whistling against the echoing stone walls. She was leading them to a private underground complex where they normally went to discuss their plans under heavy surveillance and guard.

Although she was calm at first when they climbed down the small staircase and entered through the oval entrance of the last room with a shadowy cast over a metal table, she started to feel apprehensive when she saw the man standing in there with his back to them. Their vor leader—ex-KGB agent, Vladimir.

"Vladimir?" The beautiful woman who led all the soldiers there, with prominent cheekbones and jet black hair, whispered to the back of the scarred-face looking man who was wearing a black uniform shirt and a draping leather coat. He had a tattoo of a crucifix across his chest, a spider web going up on his right shoulder, eight pointed stars on his shoulders and his knees, a devil's head on his hand, and "МИР" on the back of his other hand.

He held up his devil's hand in acknowledgment, but said nothing. His face was expressionless, his eyes hard and demanding.

She nodded and sat down; waiting.

When Vladimir turned around, he glared at all of the cowering men in the Russian camouflage attire—standing in a line inside the long stony room. He started walking around them in a circle, stopping in front of every one of them, and questioning them with a brusque look.

"Where are the trucks?" he asked finally in a conversational tone when he stood two feet in front of them, his arms behind his back. His voice was thickly accented and harsh.

He was really close to killing every one of them. They had failed to bring him the Pantsir-1 system, therefore, disrupting his plans. Someone was going to die today.

"They are—they are with the…" the guy who spoke never got to finish his sentence.

Vladimir pulled out a Makarov pistol and shot him in the head as the other men backed into the wall, huddled near the corner in terror.

"Face me,"—he pointed at the ground—"right here."

Reluctantly, they stepped over to the spot he was pointing at, all of them staring ahead with their arms tucked to their sides and their legs pointed forward. Perspiration was dripping down their necks.

"The commander, I appointed, was expected to personally conduct all training methods for the raid. They were supposed to supervise the preparation of _you_ troops, and prevent this sort of mishap from happening. Where is the commander?" he said meticulously.

When no one answered him, he snapped, "WHERE'S THE COMMANDER!"

They all looked over at a scrubby-looking man with a goatee beard. He had fleetingly averted his eyes to the front; his eyes rapidly moving in front of him in anxiety.

Vladimir stepped in front of him, eyes narrowing at the worried man. "Are you not the drill sergeant that I hired? You do understand the unit missions enough to train my forces to meet the perfect requirements, right?"

"Y-y-yess, sir. Of co-ouurse."

"So where are the trucks?" he pressed.

"They…they were stolen."

Vladimir pistol whipped him so hard, his face jerked to the side.

Vladimir paced across the room in his fury; hissing through his clenched teeth, "Your insufficient service and lack of leadership has cost me the Kamaz trucks—which were crucial to all my plans of taking out the Italians. You have prolonged my goal and for that," he said, pausing to look over at the shrinking man in uniform with fear written all over his face and a nasty bruise forming on his cheek. "You will suffer dearly."

"But first you will answer my questions. Understood?" he said calmly and the commander nodded his head quickly.

"The attacks on the convoy….who were they?"

"The Italians…" The commander's voice shook and Vladimir felt another rise of hot anger shoot through him.

He backhanded the worthless man and watched with sadistic glee at how he gasped out in pain.

"Who was supposed to prevent the Italians from taking the convoy?"

"I…I was."

"Yes, you were….The maximum effort needed to use the element of surprise—was it enforced?"

"Yes, sir. I assure you, it—it was well-prepared and fortified. We were concealed within the ambush positions."

"Was there a rifle squad?"

"Yes."

"Were there escort vehicles?"

"Yes."

"Had the Americans reacted as they had been briefed and returned any fire towards you?"

The commander stuttered. "Yyy-yyes. But they had been knocked out by then...by nerve gas."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nerve gas?"

"Yes sir." the replaceable man said in a small voice.

"How exactly did that happen?"

"Well sir, there was a sort of a delay when they were packing the cargo. You know, the order of weaponry you asked for?"

"I'm well aware what I asked for! Tell me something important." he snapped.

"Yes, yes, umm...there was an explosion of cars, just to the eastside of the airlift—I couldn't detect the smell of gasoline until I saw the leak. And then there was another mass explosion to the north. We hauled out everything we could and then left but…"

"What?" his voice was even, too calm.

"But as we were leavin' we hit a road block, and then six of their men were throwin' grenades—these hissing canisters in our trucks—and then another armored truck appeared, and then there was gun fire. I believe they were women, sir."

Vladimir looked menacingly at him. "Women? Did you just say—women?"

"Yyyess-yes, sir."

Vladimir exchanged a look with the jet black-haired woman. Their eyes saying they knew who they were.

"And you were unaware of how the traitors looked like?" he asked, turning his attention back to the commander.

"Umm…"

"Did you recognize them at all?"

"Not at the time, ss-sir. They were dressed down in the American uniform, ann-and it was pitch dark, sir."

"So you couldn't see their faces and guess they weren't Russian, hm? That they weren't one of us?"

"Uhh…no, sir?"

Fed up with the incompetent waste, Vladimir shot him in the neck without giving it a second thought.

The commander toppled over on the ground and Vladimir watched stoic as his face contorted into a mask of agony and his body was twisting and writhing around in pain as he clutched feebly at his bleeding neck; wheezing for air.

"Wrong answer." Vladimir said indifferently.

And when the useless man continued to jerk around on the floor, blood pouring out from his mouth, Vladimir—disgusted—stuck another bullet in his chest to stop the squirming.

"Ah, did I miss all the fun already?" a voice said from behind him.

Vladimir turned to look over at the thin man walking in the room—his consort, Ivan, who was chewing gum with his hair slicked back and dark eyes amused. He was wearing a long beige rain coat.

"Ivan. News?"

"It is done." he said simply.

Vladimir almost smiled. "You've convinced them?"

Ivan nodded. "Your personnel will have access to the weapons. I made sure the files were secured from the Americans and safely placed in _our_ embassy."

"Fine work."

The two men then remained cool and collected throughout the wait and nervous fidgeting of the room. They were engaging in small laughter and meaningful conversation when…

"They are here." The jet black-haired woman said suddenly.

Vladimir looked towards the door again and two other Russians walked into the room. They were wearing matching black fur coats with black fur hats.

One of the Russians was a man, bulky and short with a chiseled face and squared-jaw. He had a tattoo on his chest of a Madonna and a child that was covered up by his white turtleneck at the moment, and he had a chain hanging loosely down from his neck of a silver ring. His eyes were the same as the girl standing next to him; a vivid icy blue. The slender girl standing next to him had long pale blonde hair, dark lined brows, and painted red lips that habitually turn up into one of her dangerous smiles. She was the same height as the man.

By their mirrored gestures everyone can immediately tell they were twins. Their expressions were cold and hostile.

Vladimir looked them once over and nodded. "Oksana and Nestor. I'm glad you two have arrived for the meeting. But you're late."

"We had company." Oksana replied stiffly; her voice sugary with a delicate accent.

Vladimir moved up in his chair and gestured to the empty seats. They both sat down, right next to each other.

"We were busy blowing off a guy's face, point-blank like you did to him," she continued, nodding towards the commander who was now lying dead on the floor; a pool of blood surrounding him. "And, we we're just heading this way when we saw a report on the news. You might want to watch it."

Without asking, Ivan grabbed the remote that was sitting next to him, and turned on the television—that was hanging above the room—just as an anchorwoman in a suit appeared on the flat screen.

"_Throughout the hijacking, there were designated KAMAZ trucks that had solid fuel rocket radio command guided surface to air missiles, which is used as a ground to air defense system, that were stolen and exported to a port in Amsterdam where there were more multiple attacks on the ferryboat that destroyed many of the other vehicles besides these trucks and the Russian military weapons that were inside them."_

_The anchorwoman paused, clutching her ear. _

"_We are just learning that the convoy was prevented from returning to the airlift after being put into what would be called the 'kill zone'. The suspects involved in this case were said to be associated with both the notorious Russian mafia and Italian La Cosa Nostra. So far there have been no reports of any casualties during the convoy attack, but authorities say there were two suspects who were confirmed, one being an associate of the Italian family, __Costanzio Pecoraro, __while the other is outlaw to the United States, Leonardo Ricci. These men are extremely dangerous and there is a reward for anyone who has any information on them."_

Ivan was the one who spoke first after the segment ended. "What'd you want to be done?"

Vladimir glanced over at him with heated eyes. "Find them all. Then kill them." was all he said and he nodded at the twins to do it.

Oksana and her twin Nestor stood up while the jet black-haired woman, who was their mother named Kostya, went to them to escort them out.

"With much pleasure." Oksana said with a toss of her hair and her brother nodded in agreement.

Vladimir smirked. He was proud of them. They were both precision killers like he was and they flinched for no one or anything. And for once, he was willing to let them kill the bastards who've stolen his trucks and return them back to him. He was that _good_ of a father.

"Kostya, report to me when it is finished." he said and she nodded at him in compliance.

"They will know no mercy. We'll show them what it means to fuck with us, Russians." She rubbed a pocketknife with dried blood she had tucked in her sleeve and then turned on her high heel to leave, following her children.

**AN: ****So what'd ya think? I know it's a bit long, and well...kinda different from other chapters. I hope it doesn't offend anybody. Brian is hard to write. I personally enjoy writing in Dom and Letty's point of view. Any suggestions? Let me know.**

**Newer AN: So I just watched Eastern Promises and I loved it. I realized how much the tattoos were important for Vor v Zakone members so I added some on Vladimir and Nestor. It really is a fascinating movie if you're into the mafia/mob type of movies. I love the Godfather, it's #1 in my book.**


	6. Dying to Live

******AN: Hey guys! I've been a little busy with the holidays, but I promised myself I'd get this updated today. So as you know, the Russians have seen the breaking headline news about the heist and are after two of the guys that are on Italian crew–Leon and Costan. This tv broadcasting is an important element as it will be connected to the characters on Dom's crew in the next chapter. Please tell me what you think and share your opinions. ALL opinions are welcomed :) Now for Letty's pov.**

* * *

**Merida, Yucatán, Mexico 1:44 a.m.**

**October 14th, 2011**

Christ, it was after midnight when she finally got home. Or at least to the place she considered a home—if she could even call it that, it being a hotel. Her villa was ransacked by a bunch of shitheads, so she knew she couldn't go back 'til she knew it was safe.

And to make things worse, she had a bandage taped around her fucking shoulder and a cast around her leg, the damaged broken leg of two years, and she kinda felt like shit having to display her injuries for everyone to see. It made her look weak…

_But I guess it doesn't matter_, she thought tiredly. She was alive.

And well, she got the job done, so she can't ask for anything more than that, right? Besides her well-being and her familia's safety and health?

Leon was off the hook. The debt he had was paid now and all they had to do was hand over the trucks and the weapons to the family and they were home free. But that swap was to be arranged at a later time, what with the goddamn cops all over them. They still hadn't figure out it was them and they'd like to keep it that way.

Slowly hobbling forward on her crutch, Letty got out of the taxi and looked over at the hacienda—now a five star hotel that was on the right side of her with the neon sign glowing brightly—_El Hotel Home Sweet Home—_and sighed.

Yeah, Ana and the girls should be back by now. She regretted having to get them involved in the first place, but she couldn't figure out any other logical way for the hijacking to go down without her ending up dead herself. And they were all so willing to stick their necks out to help accommodate her and the guys to Amsterdam's port. So she let them.

She smirked widely.

And they put on one fucking helluva show for the Russians as she watched on with fierce pride at how they made those assholes struggle for order in the chaos of their convoy attacks. The pendajos didn't know whether to shit themselves or shoot at us.

Yeah, arrogant, egotistic men—like them—tend to always underestimate us women when it came to shit like that. They always thought they were the domineering human gender in the world ergo viewing us women in the bullshit weak submissive stereotype with their chauvinistic eyes; the alpha male suckers. Like 'cause they have dicks and balls, they can outshine us in every shit category there is without doing shit and belittling us like we were only their bitches. Fucking losers. We proved them wrong.

Outside the 18 century old hacienda, the smell of blossoms permeated the air; the patio was wreathed with bouquets of pink trumpet-shaped flowers and other impeccable flowers with vibrant bright colors.

She looked over at the palm trees surrounding the Sol de Yucatan painted building, the walls emblazoned with prong flower-like patterns with vines and baskets of plants hanging around the ceiling stretch.

The place had a very elegant stone texture with earthly colored tones along the walls. It had a sumptuous dining room, a gourmet restaurant, a pool house, and its own courtyard with manicured lawns and a vintage marble fountain.

She had to admit, the architecture was beautiful.

The rooms were nice too, decorated with antiques and hand-carved furnishings with the occasional hand-woven textiles, oil paintings, beamed ceilings, and full-length windows. Like in most of Mexico's haciendas.

She had her own suite with a veranda and king size bed.

And as soon as the guys get here to stare in wonder at the place like she first had when she moved in, she hoped they'd be civil enough to help her think of a plan that would protect all those who resided in it. Including the asshole who owned it.

* * *

_**[14 hours earlier]**_

_"So I guess we have to lay low here for a while." Army concluded with a heavy sigh._

_They were all sitting around a table, offering their ideas. They had barely escaped the ferryboat from the ambush of the Chinese Triads and were now hiding out in Italy. They were being tough about it, acting as if it was just another intrusion of cockroaches to torch out, but she knew differently and tried suggesting places to go with new names, passports, and I.D's. Except they were just talking about returning to Sicily to give their family an endorsement of their word._

_They were being fucking anxious about it._

_And as the nervous movements of the men were getting too obvious in the room, she scoffed out loud, "You guess? What? You guys afraid now? I thought you had the bad machoism thing goin' on."_

_Getting irritated looks by three of the five men in the room, she turned her back on them with her torso facing the window—frustrated and sore from the tender pain of her leg and shoulder, but willing to let them decide whatever the hell they were gonna do on their own._

_She was sitting against the sofa with a journal lying on her lap and a crutch against her side; her bum leg stretched out across fluffed pillows while the other was crossed over it, a customary scowl etched on her face. The morphine had worn off a couple hours ago and she was feeling in one of her pissy moods._

_And this shit was really starting to bug her._

_I mean once they had settled on an answer for a problem, another argument would begin, and blow up into something it shouldn't. And now the guys were debating on whether or not it would be safe for them to split up into different countries and chill it from there, or stay in the country they were in now. They'd been at it for hours and she was getting pretty sick and tired of the bullshit excuse of staying in Venice._

_Not that it wasn't a bad thing—hell no—she loved the place and all. It was a very cool city and she was just getting used to the Venetian houses, the theatrical masks, the canals, the bridges, the waterbuses, the shops, and restaurants. All of that._

_The hostel they were staying at was alright, but…_

_She sighed. It just wasn't the same as Merida. Truth was, she was desperate to go home to where her family was. To where her dear Paco was. To where Manolo was._

_But, of course, Army had argued that it wasn't a __great__ idea with it jeopardizing his fucking safety protocols and shit._

_Screw that! She earned her freedom, she should be allowed to walk—or hobble—out the fucking door if she wanted to. Protocol be fucked._

_"We can't really have anyone tracing our tracks,__ Letty__. It will lead them to us and then what? You think you can take on all of the Russians and Triads alone, heroine?"_

_She rolled her eyes. Melodramatic asshole._

_But he was right. If she had to agree with him on anything, it would be this. 'Cause if she learned anything from the past 48 hours it was that she was certain—sure as hell—that she didn't want to face that Asian bitch from the ferryboat again._

_Her lightning fast kick nearly snapped her head off and if she hadn't caught her other leg that was thrown at her with that intense Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon kinda shit force on her good arm, and twisted the psycho into a back somersault that landed her neat and flat on her feet—huh, well, she could've had a broken neck. That and Leon shooting at the bitch 'til she leapt off the boat._

_And she might've gotten a tiny bruise on her face, but the bitch got a tooth knocked out of her faultless line of shocking pearly whites (aka her teeth). Yeah, now she's gotta put dental implants on her to do list before rereading the instructions on her kung fu training book._

_Leon spoke up after a minute of silence. "C'mon dawg, the girl wants to go home. She's been too far from Manuel, Paco, and the rest for far too long. Maybe we oughta go with her. The hotel is safe, right?" he asked, looking directly at her._

For me, _she thought derisively then huffed loudly, "Look, I don't wanna bring trouble to the owner. You know Benito? The guy who makes my life difficult as hell? He probably won't let you guys in even if you asked. I only get to 'cause of Ana, but if I were an Italian affiliated mafia member who is in trouble with the world?" she said, raising her voice at a high pitch at the end. "Then I'd get my ass kicked back on the street."_

_Army raised one eyebrow, "Is that what'd he do? If he knew us?"_

_She shrugged, turning away from them and staring out the window. Benito was a depraved lunatic. Of course he would._

_"Leticia?" a young man's voice asked._

_Quickly recognizing the person, she whirled around in anger as both her fists clenched tightly on her crutch. That little punk._

_"Rein," she said in a low menacing voice, "I thought I told you to never fuckin' call me __that__."_

_Rein was the youngest out of all of them, about 23. He was recruited through the mafia by his Uncle and was basically the guy they went to when they needed to shake someone of their trail—the money launderer._

_He had chocolate brown eyes, windblown curled tip hair, and an approachable smile. His body frame was lanky and tall, and he had one of those Adam Apple's that gave him a type of masculine raw edge. But unlike Army and Gio, he didn't have a ripped physique. No bullshitting. He was really no wall of muscle. He was a sensible guy and also a whiny kid without meaning to be. Like right now._

_That little punk__, she repeated in her head again._

_He smiled crookedly at her. "You did. But that __is__ your name. Luciana was just a false name to cover up your identity. After all, aren't you wanted in like, the United States? By a drug lord named Braga?"_

_She looked over at Leon then with murderous eyes. He told them!_

_"__Gesù!_ (Jesus!)_" Army exclaimed with his hands up in frustration. "We have known forever now. Don't blame the guy."_

_She directed her glare towards the second in command—with his new _hairdo_, cropped short around the back and side and swept along the front in a trimmed and pelt-like fashion; fine and straight._

_Shaking her head, she muttered asshole under her breath and he smiled widely at her, hearing her. _

_"__Naturalmente_ (Naturally)._" he agreed._

_She scowled. _

_If she could burn him to a crisp by just using her eyes, he'd be barbecued. Asshole._

_"C'mon, they needed to know Let. They have backgrounds too ya know." Leon reasoned to her as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to control her breathing._

_"Like it would do 'em any good!" she snapped. Stupid fuck._

_"I ain't sayin' it won't be dangerous, Let…but," turning his head and nodding over at the guys, "they could handle it."_

_Alright, that did it._

_Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself awkwardly up off the sofa with her crutch, flinching at the sudden pain in her leg and shoulder, but ignored it as she shuffled forward to Leon. Army tried to help her—wrapping one of his arms around her waist and tossing aside her journal, but she shook her head crossly at him. She had to do this on her own. She didn't need or_ want _any of his help._

_She may have gotten shot in the leg and shit, but it wasn't as seriously damaged as her shoulder could've been. Her shoulder was just immobile at the moment—not amputated. And although the bullets didn't graze her skin, it didn't hit any major arteries either._

_He understood what she wanted and reluctantly let her go._

_Exhaling her breath, she continued limping forward until she reached Leon and was thankfully able to sit down on something that was level and even after being stuck on the couch all day. Leon offered her his chair._

_As soon as she sat down, she motioned with her finger from him to come to her, and leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, "Le, I can't really have associated mafia members roaming the streets of Yucatán. The cops would be on them like this,"—clasping her index finger with her thumb—"and then those bastards will find Ana and Manolo. I won't let that happen."_

_"Yeah but—"_

_"Fuck that Le," she interrupted in a harsh tone, "I'm not gonna put them in danger."_

_"We don't have to. We can relocate them to another hideout and then we—"_

_"Wait, turn that up," Army said suddenly to Gio and the broad-shouldered man reached for the button on the tv._

_Curiously, she turned her attention to the tv. The volume was already loud enough for them to hear what the lady was saying, but that didn't stop Army from muttering, "What…the—"_

...

**"**_**The suspects involved in this case were said to be associated with both the notorious Russian mafia and Italian La Cosa Nostra. So far there have been no reports of any casualties during the convoy attack. Authorities say there were two suspects who were confirmed, one being an associate of the Italian family, Costanzio Pecoraro, while the other is outlaw to the United States, Leonardo Ricci. These men are extremely dangerous and there is a reward for anyone who has any information on them."**_

...

_They all sat speechless when it ended, staring at the screen where it showed two familiar photos—of two familiar faces: one of Costan, the other of Leon. Recent photos from the scene of the heist. Of Berlin…_

_She drew in a shaky breath and stared up at Leon. Leon's face was grim and showing little to no emotion. Yet, she knew what was behind the mask: disbelief, panic, and a cry for help._

_She turned to Costan. __His__ face was openly staring in shock at what they were showing on the screen, at what was being broadcasted on the international news for the whole world to see—his name, his face. They all watched on with concern at how different fleeting emotions crossed his face and then winced when he clamped down on his teeth with an audible 'snap'._

_She bit the inside of her cheek. _Shit. What now?

_"__Siamo fottuti. _(We're fucked.)_" Gio whispered for everyone to hear and there was a small murmur of agreement._

_"It can't be that serious, right?" Costan asked no one in particular then to Army. "Right, Army? They won't come after us?"_

_When there was no response to his question, Costan stood up out of his chair and ran a nervous hand through his wavy locks of hair._

_"__Merda_ (Shit)_…ok, um, Army. Don't worry, we'll figure this out. We'll figure this out man." Costan said putting his hand down and approaching the livid—whoa, livid?_

_By quickly observing him, she could tell by the strain of his jaw and the tendons in his neck that he was pissed off beyond reasoning, and was ready to lay a beat down on him. And she was sure it'd be ruthless. If she could get in between them in time and try to reassure him that they could work around it despite the obvious slip up—Costan not knocking out the surveillance cameras—maybe he'd listen to her._

_But unfortunately, the impulsive man jumped on Costan before she got the chance. _Fuck!

_"__Dannazione!_ (Damn it!)_" he cursed at Costan and punched him square in the jaw._

_Letty watched as Costan reared back in pain and had his back slammed against the wall with Army's elbow pressed against his neck. She protested as Costan was being choked out by Army, feeling tempted to hit Army in the back of his head with her crutch, but suddenly she stared out in wonder at the guy named Costan as he jerked up his knee and hit Army in his lower stomach before tackling him to the ground._

Wow. Gutsy move.

_They struggled on the floor, punching, kicking, and beating each other. They knocked over an antique lamp and vase that was on the coffee table, but they didn't seem to notice or care that the expensive things were both shattered to pieces and that they were rolling all over the fragments._

_Leon, the first to snap out of it, quickly intervened and tugged at the shirt of Costan—who was closest to him—and hauled him away from Army. Costan fought against him for a while when Leon held his arms back, but then he was shoved back by Gio who was daring him to move again with his fists raised._

_Meanwhile, Rein had a vise lock enclosed around Army's shoulders and was putting all his weight against him. The enraged man tried to heave him off, but she also moved out of her chair, willing her legs to bend a little in front of him, to keep him from escaping his hold. And it worked. He didn't budge._

_Once everything was settled back down, Army and Costan sat motionlessly on the floor in the aftermath of their fight. They were still breathing heavily and gnashing their teeth together in their fury. No one said anything and the room was getting too uncomfortable with the rising tension, flaming over like an eruption of lava between the two men._

_She was still a bit dazed by the fight and the jumbled images of Army connecting his fist to his victim's mouth, and although she was capable of hiding it from them, she couldn't really ignore the throbbing pain of the stitches in her skin when she kneeled down to keep Army away from Costan. But somehow, Leon must've sensed her suffering 'cause he gently picked her up from her spot and placed her back on the couch._

_His hands hovered above her leg and she had to bite back on her sleeve to keep from yelling at them. It was fucking bleeding again._

_Suddenly, the shuffling of feet made her aware that Rein and Gio were by her side. They looked down at her in worry and if that didn't scare the shit of her, then she didn't know what did._

_Army was the one who spoke first._

_"__Costan, sei veramente un idiota.__Guarda cosa hai fatto._ (Costan, you really are a dumbass. Look what you did.)_" he fumed as he picked himself up from the ground, dusting off his shirt, and walking over to where she was._

_She made out one word. _Idiot.

_"__Che cazzata! Tu sei!__La sua colpa tua!_ (Bullshit! You are! It's your fault.)_" Costan shot back and Army moved away to get in his face again, but then Leon stood in between the two with his hands stretched out._

_"Yo, cool it guys."_

_Army clenched and unclenched his fists and Costan angrily wiped off the blood on his busted lip with his hand; both glaring at each other with accusation._

_"__Grande, questo è grande. _(Great, this is great.)_" Gio chanted to himself, pacing back and forth._

_"__Che diavolofacciamo? _(What the hell do we do?)_" Rein whispered in a sorta shaken state._

_"__Se nonfosse stato per tenon saremmoin questo casino! _(If it weren't for you we wouldn't be in this mess!)_"_ _Costan snarled at Army and Army laughed viciously._

_"__Be', il cui nome si trova sulla' schermocazzoper la famigliaa vedere, eh? Testa di cazzo__. _(Well, whose name is on the fuckin' screen for the family to see, huh? Dickhead.)_"_

_They started cussing more Italian words at each other and were about to go at it again when she had finally had enough of their bitching and moaning and yelled, "Hey! Will you guys please shut the fuck up so we can figure out how to deal with this shit? Alright? ALRIGHT!"_

_And to her surprise, they all stopped talking at once and looked over at her; stunned expressions on their faces._

_Yeah, she normally didn't make a commotion out of things like this. She remained quiet, reserved, and unflappable. Even back in L.A., when the Team fought, she was the voice of reason, and managed to calm down the situation before it got worse._

_But right now she was fucking serious._ AND PISSED OFF!

_There was a dead silence. Leon had the ghost of a smirk on his face and nodded at her as she held the gaze of each and every one of the guys in the room as she challenged them to talk over her. To step over the thin line of her tolerance and temper._

_"__Va bene__." Army said finally, backing away from the others and leaning himself against the wall on the far corner of the room. His expression hard._

_"Huh?" she asked, confused at his clipped tone._

_"Okay." Gio translated as he dragged a chair next to her and sat down._

_She'd only spent a few months with the guys in Italy and had some of their language rub off on her during that time, but she still didn't even know half of it. It was too complicated learning new words that weren't her own native tongue. Too much work._

_"So...what do we do?" Gio asked her and she ran a hand through the wavy tresses of her hair. Fuck if she knew._

_"The secret is out," Rein said in an unsteady voice. "The family will—will have knowledge of it, and will send in soldiers. They'll be after us."_

_"Not if we settled the debt and bring them what they want." Costan argued, receiving a glare from Army._

_"They'll kill us. No one will help. Remember what happened to Tommy? How he ended up missing and found in a ditch?" Rein reminded him and a tremor went through them all._

_"But still…" Costan said weakly._

_"No one's gonna help us." Rein said in a tone that made it resolute._

_"Not with that kinda attitude." Gio scoffed, trying to keep on a brave face._

_"We need to separate—go off to a desert or something. I'll try to arrange a place for us in Goa. I have a friend there who owns some land."_

_"Dawg, we need to stick together. Figure out a way to handle it. Letty and her friends are hangin' in Yucatán. We gotta go there." Leon urged._

_They all turned towards her and stared at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. There was a uneasiness in her stomach, and her breathing had hitched a little._

_Well great. All of it was a fucked up situation. They were not only wanted by the German government, the Russian Mafia, the Triads, the FBI, the CIA, the foreign intelligence, the secret service, and whoever the fuck else that was looking for them, they were also being hunted by their own Cosa Nostra. Everything was fucked._

_"Letty?"_

_"I…I…don't—" she faltered._

_Army uncrossed his arms then and took a step forward. "So. What is it going to be Letty? We comin' or splitting up?"_

_For a second she could see the pleading in his eyes, the helplessness in the light brown irises, and it was as if he crossed over from some darker place that he was in and found some hope in the ray of the light that was being offered to him—an escape. She never saw Army with a vulnerable look before. It reminded her of the way Dom held her face after he nearly beaten Linder to death. Right before being sent off to prison..._

_So she made her decision._

_"It's up to you really," she said only to Leon, hiding her true intentions. "But don't forget that we're headin' to Mexico. Where __my__ familia is. Do you really want to put them in danger too?"_

_Even though she put it out there, she was kinda hoping they'd change their minds._

_Leon looked at her strangely. "Girl, I thought you lived for danger."_

_"Yeah, well, getting shot more than once kinda ruins the experience," she muttered to herself then louder. "But I guess if I'm not dying to live, I'm living to die, right?"_

_"Right. And since we're livin' on the survival instinct and not planning on dying—Costan?" Staring over at him with hard eyes, "I say you work out that place for us and get us on abroad for the next transport. Or you're not rollin' with us no more. You feel me?"_

_Costan grudgingly nodded. "I feel you."_

_"Or else, you're a dead man."_

* * *

"Costan _is_ a dead man," she muttered to herself as she hobbled through the hotel lobby with her empty stomach and duffle bag.

He had literally screwed it up for all of them. He was left in charge to deal with the security cameras and failed to do so, resulting in the exposure of the family. Which was a shitty position to be in 'cause his face was on the screen for everyone to see.

But she would really hate to see him dead. He was a valuable ally—one of her only friends—and was a decent person, too. Hot body, grey eyes, and charming self, he was a package deal. He had his temper flared sometimes when it came to Army, but he was only human. Yet, his one flaw as a person? He was a ladies man; the womanizer, lecher, Casanova, or back during her time, the Dominic Toretto.

Resignedly, she closed her eyes as she thought of the man she had been in love with since the age of ten. The massive, cocky, sexy man with his bulky arms, shaved head, and huge smirk. God, he was so fucking hot when she knew him. He always knew how to stir unwanted feelings in her and make her go crazy with desire—with tension between her legs that made her need to scream out in pleasure. Dom had a hold over her like no other man did. He was gravity, and as much as she wanted to desperately get away from him, she was always pulled back in.

She shook the thoughts away. But those days were over now. He was a fucking ghost to her and she wanted to keep it that way. He didn't deserve an inch of her respect or an ounce of her love. She did everything she could for him. What had he ever done for her?

And maybe…maybe she'd give Army a chance. All she wanted before was just to be his friend, but really? Could she really deny her attraction to him? Nope. He was fucking attractive. And he wasn't hiding the fact that he had eyes on her. Might as well test him, see how far he was willing to go.

She was resting out by the garden, lying down in a hammock, and even though she had a hurt leg and shoulder, she refused to let that disturb her sudden peace. A backyard always had that affect on her. The only difference was she couldn't hear the sizzling sound of meat being cooked on a grill.

There was a cabana out back too on a terrace with a small minibar next to it. She could see the overhead fans and a young bartender accompanying it; wiping down shot glasses with a cloth. The bartender was there for a little while then left and now the only sounds she could hear were the chirpings of birds and the flowing rush of water in the fountain.

One thing she could say about the hacienda that made it unique was that it had its own house of exotic birds like parrots, peacocks and other flamboyant birds she didn't know the names of. It probably had its own colony of flamingos and enthusiasts who liked bird watching that she wasn't aware of, and she could be joined by those birds if they ever got loose. The idea almost made her laugh.

She sighed.

She still didn't know how Benito inherited the place. He was a well-known millionaire in Mexico, famous for charity work and other philanthropic duties. He was a gentlemen on the outside but a fucking sociopath on the in—at least to the rational mind. She guessed that he reclaimed it after his ancestors—who had it since the Mexican Revolution—had passed on. His hacienda derived from one of the country's henequen plantations that had shut down upon the war. Now it was a raging success.

He was a lucky bastard...and a fucking asshole. Didn't seem right that he had a slice of heaven.

She looked down at her watch. Almost two. Well, it was time to take her crippled ass to a shower. Struggling to get up from the hammock, she decided 'fuck it' and rolled off of it. THUNK!

"Ungh." she groaned and placed her good arm up, elbowing it against the grass and propping herself up.

_Dumb ass move_, she thought to herself as she shakily stood up from the ground and snatched her crutch, and as she crept lazily back inside the hotel, she was suddenly aware of calculated, heedful footsteps behind her.

_What the fuck_, she thought as it got closer. Really it could've been anyone at the hotel she reasoned, but this late? She barely had the energy to keep her eyes open. Who the hell would be sleepwalking at night?

A chill ran through her as she saw a silhouette of a bulky man nearly inches from her on the wall. She was about to allow the person to pass, to see who it really was and if they were just some random person, and not some guy she knew—which she was afraid of. But when she heard the person stop as she did, she quickly withdrew her gun in mere seconds and turned to scare the guy before being met by a pair of familiar green eyes.

"Gio?" she asked incredulously, slowly letting down her weapon.

"Whoa, calm down girl. I wasn't tryin' anything." he said with his hands raised in surrender.

She took a deep breath, deliberately lowering her voice. "Gio, what the fuck are you doin' here? I thought I told you to come later. Not today."

"Early flight. Army ordered us to follow ya here. For your safety." he said with a shrug. She frowned and was about to ask why before she froze again when she heard someone behind her. And when there was a hand on her shoulder, she panicked.

Quickly, she whipped out her gun again and pointed it against the dead man's chest that touched her, and almost nearly pulled the trigger...'til she saw the man's face.

She blinked. Oh shit, it was just Army.

They stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to say. She had almost _killed_ him. Holy fucking shit. He could've been dead if her finger hadn't slipped off the trigger. She could've murdered him.

"Huh…ciao?" was all Army managed to say, and although it was the wrong kinda greeting—you know, in this country—it eased the tension. All three of them broke out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter which could've woken up the entire hotel if they hadn't covered their mouths with their hands_. She_ was laughing so hard her ribs were starting to fucking hurt and she had to clutch her side before they cracked through her skin.

"Sorry." she muttered sheepishly, putting away her gun; embarrassed by her reaction to him.

_"Figurati. _(It's nothing)." he said good naturedly, but his eyes were a bit unsettling. Made her think twice about what she almost did.

Cautiously walking back into the lobby, she nudged Army with her hand as she put herself out of her comfort zone. "Hey, as long as you're in this country, you better start speaking my language. Got it?" she demanded a bit playfully.

He nodded. "_Sí, uhh...lo haré?_ (Yes, uhh...I will?)"

She smiled a little. That easy, huh? "So do you guys have your own room?"

"We set a reservation already and paid. We just need to get our luggage in."

"And the other two?"

"Are not too far behind."

And as if on cue, two men with bags were standing in the front entrance, looking like they just got off a 12 hour long flight and they had 'cause Leon and Rein just arrived. She tapped both Army and Gio on the shoulders and they followed her gaze.

"Don't keep them waiting," she murmured to Army and then with a yawn, "I'm off to bed. See ya in the morning."

"Good night." Army whispered gently and with a small flutter in her chest, she headed to the elevator and pressed the button that would lead her to the top floor where her main suite was. She would have tough dreams tonight. About the heist, the Russians, the Triads, the Italians, the crew, her new family, her old family...

And as soon as she reached the door, used the golden key she kept in her pocket, and stepped in the room, she heard tiny pattering footsteps and immediately knew who it was.

"Paco!" she called loudly in the room and waited a moment. She smiled and laughed when a small Chihuahua bounded to her in that instant. He was barking and whining around her feet—his tail wagging really fast, and she couldn't help but feel cheered at the tiny black-nosed face.

"Hey Paco!" she said kneeling down to scratch the happy two and a half dog behind the ears. "You've been good while I was gone, huh? Did Neva take care of you?"

He barked once as if he said 'yes' and ran back over to his small fort of pillows and blankets. She groaned to herself when she saw the torn linen sheets.

"Paco, did you tear up those sheets?" she chided at her not so innocent looking rascal. His round eyes said it all. He was guilty. "Oh you're in trouble now. But I'll have to deal with you later. Right now, your owner has to go take a shower."

With a last pat to his furry head, she hobbled over to her oversized closet and grabbed a pair of nightie shorts and a white tank top, and headed for the bathroom. She hadn't been able to take a decent shower in the past week, but she was determined to take one today. Even if meant reopening her stitches just to do it.

Grabbing a nearby chair, she carefully began stripping out of her clothes, being careful to remove the sling and cast after she was naked. The wounds were cleaned, yeah, but still she got those goddamn stitches in them too and she didn't want to put too much pressure on them by accidentally touching them. They would invoke the pain she felt hours earlier. And it would hurt like a bitch.

Opening the glass panel door, she took a towel from the bar and laid it near the door as she sat down on the bench underneath the hot spray of the shower. _Shit that feels so good_, she thought as the water poured on her tense muscles. She slowly lathered some shampoo in her hair with her one hand, and used the other to scrub her skin clean.

After a few minutes, she noticed the glass had a thin layer of fog on it, and she started tracing patterns on the vapor surface, writing out her full name with her finger then wiping it out with her palm.

She waited until it fogged up again and then wrote out another name.

Dom.

She gazed at his name, thinking about all the times she stood by the man that captured her heart with a single look, and everything she used to love about him: the baritone voice, the cocked eyebrow, the hulking shoulders, the rippled muscles… And his personality, the fierce protectiveness, the deep sense of humor, the mysterious depth in his eyes, the confidence in his posture, the passionate drive, the street wisedom, and**—**

Well, all the other fucking shit she had to put up with when he was the King of L.A. The ego, the skanks, the behavior...

But she overlooked it 'cause Dom was everything to her. He was always her everything…And he was a tough guy with a soft heart and he only ever let her see his tender side. Showed her what was really inside his heart...

She drew a slanted heart around his name—lightly tracing it with her fingers, then quickly realizing what she did, marked it out with an x.

God, she needed to be medicated. The mood changes she had today were taking the life of her. And fuck that she might still be in love with the asshole. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let herself be bothered him anymore. After everything that went down, she just had to move on. She couldn't forgive that he already had or that he was still doing the same shit that got them in trouble in the first place.

At one point, yeah, they were just doing their jobs, but now…

It was fucking ridiculous. They could've had different lifestyles and different morals to live by. Instead of acting like fucking Bonnie and Clyde, they could've gotten jobs that required hourly work and school education. But no, they settled for hijacking shit and becoming criminals that the whole goddamn world knew.

Whatever. She couldn't change the past or even imagine what it could've been like 'cause suddenly she was remembering a different reason for her actions, for doing what she had to at the time, and a pang of sorrow wrung her chest as she wrote another name underneath his.

Marisa…

Tears started to drip down her cheeks along with the streaming water and she found that she couldn't wipe them away even if she wanted to. She was worn-out.

Finally after what felt like an hour long shower, she got out of the glass encasement and dried herself off. She wrapped a towel around her head as she slowly got dressed in her clothes. She combed her hair straight through before blow drying it and quickly brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash.

With her thumb, she wiped off any left-over smidges of makeup on her face—which wasn't a lot, then yawned tiredly as she opened the bathroom door and limped forward to her bed; laying across it.

She looked over at the nightstand and at the digital clock.

2:30 a.m.

_Five more minutes and then I could see you again_, she thought to herself as she quietly drifted off to sleep.

Five more minutes.

Five more minutes…

**It's a bit cryptic, I know, but I can assure you that more will be explained down the line of chapters if you hadn't already figured it out. Letty is confused right now about her feelings for Dom and Army—ever since it was brought up during that heist, she couldn't get him off her mind. She wants to hate him but at the same time, she really can't. And, well…sometimes we can't help what we feel, right? About someone else? All of it will be established soon. Trust me. I'm a Dotty fan, but great things take time. Let's see what the Italians or Russians have in store for the crew. Next chapter!**

**Also I used Paco as an inspiration from my little Chihuahua named Bingo. I renamed him Paco after I brought him home so don't ask why I put him in as one of Letty's comforts. He's just adorable.**


	7. One Day At A Time

**Rio Janeiro, Brazil 11:36 p.m.**

**May 13, 2012 **

_"Dom. Dom?"_

As usual he was pretending to be asleep, but today she just didn't stop. Just wouldn't quit. He made it clear already that he didn't want to talk. Why continue to irk him?

"Please, Dom, talk to me." He felt a slender hand on his back and he mentally kicked himself for not leaving earlier as she rubbed small circles into his spine, trying to soothe him—again failing to as he pulled away from her.

Fuck, he didn't really know what to do at this point. He had tried to avoid the empty feelings he had lately when he stayed over at her place, but they just came crawling back to remind him that it wasn't just his mind messing with him or some cop out he was having in an attempt to dodge any possible relationship with the Brazilian, but it was his actual reality now and the difficult situation he had with her.

The shit was damn unavoidable and he felt guilty over it, not only 'cause he should be trying to make it work with her—a new life he unknowingly promised her would happen after the heist, but he should be putting in more effort. He felt too detached and aloof—almost like a zombie when he was around her.

He'd pretend nothing was wrong and that he wasn't aware every day he was acting like he was fine…he was slowly dying inside. 'Cause as long as she was content, he'd force a smile or laugh on his deathbed….as long as she was cool.

Still, what the fuck was he thinking? He couldn't pretend it was okay now. He wasn't that type of man.

"_Talk to me."_

Irritated and tired, he sat up in the bed and reached for his pants. Really? What was there to say, exactly? He had no words. Nothing other than 'I'm leaving'.

"Dom...I know it's difficult, to try this after—"

"Don't." he warned sharply.

He didn't—DID NOT—need another sad reminder of that woman. It just made it harder for him to stay in control. If he hadn't imagined it was Letty's face he was seeing when she was underneath him, then maybe he wouldn't have been so worked up the way he was now, or freaked out when he believed it was actually her.

But he'd been able to calm down when those dark eyes of hers turned green, although his heart seemed to collapse in itself, and disappear into the translucent palms of _su amante's_ hands as he felt the bitterness gnaw at him that he can't get back what he truly wanted. What he'd die to see again.

"Dom, please."

He exhaled loudly. "I hafta go." He had to or he wouldn't be the same man he was when he looked in the mirror. He'd be a stranger to his own eyes….guess it was too late for that though.

"Wait, I—"

"There's money in here if you want some food." he murmured quietly and stood up, looking for his clothes.

"But we could try it without a condom. It is our first time in a while, after all—you know before when we had the scented candles, the dimmed lights, and the stage. It just has to be played out like that. Like a movie. And then, well, action." Elena joked, patting the bed and sprawling out on her back.

He furrowed his eyebrows. What?

And when he gave her a blank look, her beautiful face fell and she leaned up on her elbows. "It was a joke, Dom. I was just joking." she said, forcing a laugh and part of him wanted to laugh with her, part of him _really_ did, but the joke wasn't even remotely funny.

None of it was.

A dumb pitch line if he ever heard one but it wasn't like she had any better ones. And why the hell wouldn't he want to use a condom? He wasn't planning on being a dad. Fatherhood…maybe he wasn't cut out for it in general.

He reached for his keys on the dresser and tucked away some of the money from his stash in his wallet.

"Dom, you can't just push me away. I have to know what's wrong."

He threw on one of his clean shirts he found over his head and pulled it down roughly. "I just need some fresh air." _Right and it has nothing to do with the fucking fact that you're still in love with your_ _ex_—_dumbass._

The green-eyed, blonde Brazilian moved herself to face him as he continued to dress to leave, the blanket covering her. "Do you know what I think?"

He abruptly stopped at the door, fully clothed, and turned back to look at her. _No, what _do_ you think?_

"I think you are afraid to love again. That you can't bear to touch another woman because it's not her. That you still might love her even though she's gone. Dom, for your sake, you have to let her go." Elena pleaded.

For a moment, he stared across the room as he considered her words. But then after realizing her intent and how dumb it was, he just grunted in disgust and slammed the door on his way out.

As he made his way to his car in the parking lot, he pulled out a piece of wrapped gum from his pocket, and popped in his mouth to calm himself down. It usually did the trick, but it didn't work. He yanked open the door and climbed into the driver's seat, hitting his fist against the steering wheel in frustration—his mind reeling with furious thoughts.

She still didn't get it. She just didn't understand.

It wasn't just because of...Letty...that he didn't want to go further with her as he had before. It was irrational, but his commitment issues with her—fucking believe it or not—was actually getting in the way of his sex life. The way he saw it was that if there was no passion, there was no drive, and if there was no reason to make love other than for a fuck—if he didn't have someone he loved fully—then why press the matter? He'd end up having to take a cold shower afterwards anyways.

He admits he was happy for a few months with Elena. She had given him plenty of company when he needed it. But now...he was just struggling to be in the same room with her 'cause old habits die hard, and she was demanding too much of him to start the change. He had always loved strong women, but nagging women to no end? He got that she cared for him, but he needed a break. He needed space—to deal with his pain alone.

And maybe it wasn't fair to string her along the way he had, encouraging her to think that they might have a future together when they might not, and at the time he just needed someone—not as a replacement in his heart after Letty—no, just a comfort. And he unknowingly promised Elena a future…but fuck, they were all just lies before and now he had to get her to face the truth.

And the more she tried to cling onto him, the more he pulled away. It gave her a fragile heart he knew, but he also knew it couldn't really last this way either without him snapping. It was only gonna get better or worse, and he guessed it was just gonna get worse than it already was.

He could see she was starting to break. Like a crack in her armor and with his final blow, he would shatter what was left, and she'd have to pick up all the pieces while he remained untouched by any of it. And all she would've wanted from him was something that he couldn't offer and that was a husband.

Reassuring her was the initial mistake he made when she was insecure about dating him at first. He told her that she didn't have to feel that way when all he craved was a friendship in her and a sleep mate. She seemed to loosen up after that and he was pleased to find a little solace from her. But then she became too emotional, needy, and everything Letty wasn't.

Why had he done it? Why did he date a cop? What the hell possessed him to do it?

_I don't know_, he thought to himself. _All I know is that I have to end it. _

And he had to do it now before he grew restless. He was the biggest asshole in the world for it, but he had to listen to his gut. He hated being the cause of anyone's misery, especially a woman he cared for, but it had to be done. And sometimes he couldn't get away fast enough.

As he drove his way out of the favelas, he stared out at the distant figure, the Cristo Redentor statue on the peak of the Corcovado Mountain, and sighed.

_If only you got to see it_, he thought sadly.

He aimlessly drove for miles, not knowing where to go, but he finally settled for a beach. He turned on the radio to distract himself and suddenly his ears were being filled with the lyrics of that Usher song. The one he hadn't listen to in a long ass time since he first heard it in—what was it, 2001? When he realized he might've fallen deeply in love with Letty—U Got it Bad.

Yeah, that's what it was.

Course, he didn't understand what the hype was at first with this guy's music. He was just some R&B singer who was trying to safeguard himself from the bullshit he sold in his music and preserve his once good guy image. But when he heard _this_ song, it might've changed his perspective on the guy and the ideal of what love could do to a man if he found someone special—the one that made his knees oddly weak and his back tingle with shivers.

Except he left the woman who had the power to do this to him–the one he loved—behind in the Dominican Republic, in a bungalow, in the middle of the night without even a word or goodbye. If only he had listened to her when she told him they shouldn't do the job without Jesse, or if he had just stopped the hijacking idea in the first place. If he hadn't trusted Brian or ignored his sister's warning, could she still be here with him?

He remembered Vince's accusation for everything that happened. '_Look at our family now' _and '_Where's Letty?'_

His shoulders slumped. There was nothing he could do now. They were all gone including his beloved partner, and he just had to learn to accept it; one day at a time.

But there was a harassing question in the back of his mind that confronted him, that spoke against him. Would he ever get over her? The tightness in his chest told him probably not.

Still tired from the exhausting week, of traveling back and forth between three different countries, he quickly fell asleep in his car.

The dream he had was a memory of his childhood. It featured him lounging on the couch, his head arched back in a relaxing slumber. There was only one face he saw when he titled his head back up, and it was still the face he longed for.

His trophy.

* * *

_**[Memory Dream—1998]**_

_Dom tried his best to ignore her tonight, but he couldn't help himself. She was too tempting for him. _

_It had been a little awkward since she came back from El Paso. Maybe 'cause she had changed—more so than he would've imagined. She had gained an 'I don't give a fuck' personality and a confidence that he had shuddered away from in anticipation that with its rein of dominance, it would seize his ego and challenge it forever. And it seemed like he'd finally had met his match and that excited him more than anything. _

_She was his partner and all it took was one kiss from the other night to destroy the feelings of doubt he might've had. Now, at this very moment, he knew with absolute certainty that that girl was his. One way or another, she would become his Letty. Fuck anyone else who'd try to stop him. He was gonna have her. _

_He was leaning against the wall of the kitchen wh__en he started looking around the crowded room, searching for those same dark eyes that were mesmerizing to have boring into his soul just a day ago; t__he eyes that studied him with a cool, penetrating gaze. __Whenever he stared into Letty's eyes, he feared he might not be able to return back to the surface, that he would never be able to get out of the dark brown pools of them again. She saw right through him with those eyes, and frankly, he loved it._

_A bit impatiently, he shoved his way through the dancing bodies of the living room and to the stairs, checking all over the house, and then outside to the parking lot. There was a group of his neighbors he recognized surrounding a table in the backyard, but no sign of the raven-haired beauty he was looking for._

_He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his head. Where was she?_

_A__nd without really thinking about it, he let his feet direct him towards the__ old wooden garage__. He slid open the door and__ smiled faintly at the Dodge Charger. His pop always had a spicy taste for cars and this was a monster. He's seen him race in this car so many times, it amazed him on how fast he could really go when he pushed the limit. Especially in Palmdale…nine seconds flat._

_He was about to admire the handy work him and his dad did inside the hood__ when he suddenly heard the clicking of heels on the pave floor from behind him. _

_"Hey there," a high-pitched voice whispered._

Shit, just what he needed._ "What do you want Jo? I'm busy right now." he said sharply, irritated._

_"__Come on, Dom, I know you want it again. It will be just like old times." The Asian girl purred slowly, roaming her hands on his shoulders and back. _

_He tensed. Goddamn girl didn't know when to leave well alone._

_"It was once Jo and I was drunk. I don't remember it." he stated to her, turning around, grabbing both of her wrists, and setting them firmly to her sides. _

_She wasn't gonna ruin this for him. This night was his one chance to find Letty and show her that he really cared for her and wanted to be with her. That he was through with the race whores and his player ways. He wanted one thing and that was Letty. _

_How'd he let himself get distracted from her anyway?_

_"Ooohhh baby, don't act like you didn't enjoy it." she sang, batting her eyelashes at him and grinding her body up against his—her leg edging up to his hip. _

_"__I didn't give a shit really," he said nonchalantly, shoving her back. "The sooner you realize that, the better."_

_"__So that's it? Dominic Toretto pretends to like me and now he acts like he doesn't care. Really?" He saw that he had finally struck a nerve in her and now the slit eyed girl got into his face in her petty rage. _

_He shrugged, not bothered even a little. "Maybe I never did."_

_"You asshole!" she shrieked, slapping him in the face. _

_Slowly he felt his jaw with his hand and thought to himself, _what a pussy slap_. Girl doesn't box much. Even an old Vince with a cane would've done more damage. _

_"If you ever speak to me again like that I will—"_

"_You'll what? Hit me?" he mocked at her in his arrogant tone._

"_I'll do it again." she said in a less confident voice. _

_He laughed harshly at her, enjoying her cringe, and scoffed, "You call that a slap? And here I thought Asian girls knew how to fight. Not as effective as it was pathetic, I'll give ya that, but save the threat for someone who's stupid enough to believe it's a well-meaningful one."_

_She couldn't fight if her life depended on it. It was pitiful that her fingernails couldn't do any real harm either. _

_Jo glared at him for the longest time before enunciating slowly, "My brother could kick your ass for me," her eyes darkened as she bent her head at an uncomfortable angle—imagining it, her lips taking on a cruel smile. "And I would watch, delighted as Dominic Toretto was getting his face smashed in for disrespecting me__."_

_He loomed over her then, his baritone voice lowered to a dangerous pitch. "You might not have gotten what you wanted tonight, but there's no use in crying about it to your brother. Now leave!" he pointed a vicious finger at the door, losing his composure._

_In defiance, she flipped her hair into his face and marched out of the garage; purposely hitting her foot against the door on her way out. That just made him smirk. _She's in your hands now Johnny_, he thought. _God help the other victims.

_He was about to return to his search of Letty when he heard another noise. He wasn't sure, but it sounded like a tsk tsk._

_And then—_

"_Skank can't even hack a decent slap." said a familiar husky voice behind him and he whirled around in surprise._

_Letty, the 15 year old girl from across the street—with more potential than any girl to grow into the young woman of his dreams, was leaning against the door of his dad's Charger, and he felt a nervous lump in his throat. _

_He swallowed. _

_T__his was something he wasn't used to seeing and he liked what he saw. Liked. What. He. Saw._

_Besides the side ponytail__ that gave her that feminine Chicana look that drove him wild with lust,__ Letty was wearing at least $100 worth of cosmetic products.__Her face...those lips...were glittery. She was wearing black eyeliner and mascara, smoking eye shadow, a rosy blush, and red lipgloss...damn..._

_She was…beautiful…A gorgeous mami._

_He let his eyes wander down her body. Her legs, those smooth muscled legs, with one jutted out in his direction, was bared in black fishnet tights. Fuck, he found them sexy. She was wearing a black leather skirt and a black laced halter top with an exposed flat stomach._

_He imagined his jaw dropping in his mind. _

_She was so damn stunning, that as flawless as she looked now, he had to wonder what she'd look like in the future, covered in his sheets, in his bed where they'd fuck all night with each other until they grew tired, and lost track of time—being in heaven in each other's arms in a nice sweet nestle. She'd be just the person he could share that type of intimacy with. Would she look just as stunning? He'd bet his life on it. _

_Then he got a good look at her feet and fought back the urge to chuckle. _

_It was just like Letty to wear something out of the ordinary—combat boots. He saw the dog tags on her neck that matched with the soldier-like persona she had. Yeah, she maybe dressed a little sexier for a change, but she was still a chica mala. Bad chick._

_He felt so aroused—so fucking turned on by just looking at her, it gave him the tingles and he grew hard—fast. It a__woke the predatory beast within._

"_Hey." he said finally, straightening himself up, and puffing out his chest a little._

"_Hey yourself." she countered back; her mouth turning up into her signature smirk._

_After that they just stared at each other, taking in the sight of the other, and thinking about what happened between them the other night. A silence hung in the air and before he could try and say something, she decided to break it._

"_So…what's the tough guy doin' in here getting slapped by an oriental bitch? Dontcha have any dignity?" she said jokingly, but there was also a serious undertone to it too, and he knew that she didn't approve with what happened with Jo._

_He grinned. "Couldn't let go. She was still after me even though I'd more than proved to everyone that it was just a one night stand. I didn't want to give her the wrong idea if I touched her _that _way." _

_Of course, he was joking around. He'd never think of laying hands on a girl or making them think it was ok for them to lay their hands on him. He let Jo get away with it and that's probably what bothered her. He didn't accept any assault or insult for anybody._

"_Yeah, well, wait 'til Tran hears 'bout that. Luckily for you, I've been at the gym and hitting the heavy bag—ya know, in case he tries something? And I could've knocked the skank out with one swing if you hadn't told her to leave." _

"_You'd do that? Why?" he asked with an amused smile._

_She shrugged. "'Cause I can."_

_He nodded slowly, changing the subject. "Ya know…that dress you had on yesterday looked nice on you. It probably shouldn't have been kept in the closet for that long. It was bought for a purpose." he teased as he stepped forward to her with a cock of his head._

_"You think so huh?" she laughed as she folded her arms across her chest, raising one eyebrow—a challenge._

Alright, no more distractions_, he thought hurriedly. _Just do it.

_He leaned forward so that his face was even with hers and their eyes were locked—not holding back—and took her hand in his rough one; pulling her closer into his chest until she was flushed against him, which promptly made his heart beat faster than normal pace._

_"Oh, I know so." he whispered seductively._

_Then he brought his lips down onto hers, closing the gap between their faces, and kissing her with so much passion he could feel the change within himself, the animalistic need of her—of claiming her and her body with one ravenous kiss, and then with another. He pressed into her with a brutal intensity that drew her legs apart and him between them, pinning her against the car, and making her moan loudly against his mouth. _

_He was in cloud nine, finally surrendering to the buried feelings he had for her in the passing years, but only after a few seconds before she quickly pulled away from him, and he frowned—not liking the withdrawal. "Letty?"_

_"__Dom, what are you—what are you tryin' man? We can't—shit, shit, it's wrong, we shouldn't have done it yesterday. We shouldn't have." she whispered, frantically looking around the room with her eyes. _

_"__Letty, please...just go with it," he encouraged gently as he slowly leaned down and cupped her face with his huge hands, pressing his lips softly against hers this time. _

_And despite her protests, he felt only a little resistance and then almost immediately felt her respond to him, her arms __wrapping around his neck as she parted her mouth open for him—urging him forward, and he felt a deep growl rise from his throat. _

_Feeling no need to be gentle anymore, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, exploring her taste as she shivered in pleasure, and he felt thrilled at the sounds she was making 'cause of him. She tasted so good he didn't think he could ever get enough of her—ah, __the sweet taste of Corona.__ Keeping his mouth locked with hers, he moved his hands hungrily down to her waist—playing with the chain on her skirt, and then gripped his fingers tightly into her hips. _

_With little effort, he hoisted her on the hood of the Charger—losing all self-control—and started caressing every inch of her body with his hands, her bare skin making his hard cock in his jeans throb in desire at the simple touch of her flesh, and he heard the quiet hiss escape her lips when he suddenly attacked her breasts with his tongue. _

_It was a tortuous heaven from him to not have her in that moment, but necessary since he didn't want to pressure her at a young age as much as he wanted to. He was five years older than her and experienced. She was just barely out of the 10__th__ grade and turning 16 next month. Many would agree it was wrong, and yeah it was, but only to the close-minded. He had no quirks about it. She was his girl and she belonged to him._

_Besides, who else could he be himself with? Who better to do this with her than him? _

_He slowly dragged his tongue along the mounds of her chest and brushed lingering kisses down her neck to the navel of her stomach—to her cute belly button ring—while his other hand traveled down her thigh, and hooked around it—pulling it up to his hip. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he groaned. She felt so good around him._

_The need to be with her was so damn strong in that moment that he grounded down on her hard without thinking, and they both gasped at the contact of him against the thin fabric of her underwear._

Fuck…what you do to me_, he thought._

_Their breathing had become deep and ragged in their heavy kisses, and he suddenly had to break away so that she could catch her breath and he could relax himself. He__ bit down lightly on the base of her neck, then kissed his way to her hair—just below her ear—and nipped at the skin there._

"_Dom?" she breathed out against his ear._

"_Hmm?" he responded, half-listening, half-kissing her neck again._

"_Dom?" she said a little more forcefully._

"_Mmmm…" Her tight little ass in this skirt was killing him. He needed her out of it. _

"_Dom!"_

_He stopped reaching for her skirt's button in mid motion and looked up into her eyes. "What?" _

"_We shouldn't be doin' this Dom. What the hell would the Team say if they caught us like this?"_

_He stared at her incredulously and then chuckled. "Really? Why are you worried about them baby? They won't have to know. Not 'til we've got this figured out—us, I mean. I already know what I want, Let. _Who_ I want….you still deciding?"_

_She pursued her lips, trailing a finger down his shirt. "I know who I want too…but what if no one agrees with me?"_

"_Then they could go fuck themselves."_

"_Dom!" she scolded, punching his arm._

"_Ow, that hurt." he complained playfully. _

"_You don't think there could be any repercussions," she gestured between them with her hand, "for this shit?"_

"_What'd you mean?"_

"_Dom, I'm only 15 and to some people it's not a legal thing what we're doing."_

_Fuck that's right. He was considered an adult and she was still a minor. He didn't think it would matter to her. Still, Letty had a conscience and she followed it well. Even if he didn't sometimes._

"_We'll wait." was all he said and she furrowed her eyebrows._

"_You'd wait that long?" she said hesitantly—like she didn't believe him._

"_I'll do what I have to…Are you gonna stick by me 'til then?" he asked in his deeper persuasive tone._

_She smirked, a quirk of the lip. "Maybe."_

_Exhaling, he leaned in to kiss her lips again, but the hands she was resting on her chest pushed forward on him suddenly, and he felt her plant her foot against his stomach—nudging him back. He looked at her questioningly and she hopped off the car, straightening out her clothes, and although he saw a fleeting look of surprise in her eyes, her face conveyed nothing._

_He frowned. "Let? What's up?"_

"_Nothing." she said quickly and he immediately didn't believe her. He knew when she was lying._

"_You sure?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_C'mere then," he nodded with his head, but she turned away and headed towards the door_

"_Why don't you just finish what you were doin' here bubba, and I'll go back to the party." she suggested with a parting glance as she slid open the wooden door and stepped out of the garage. _

"_Nuh-uh, no way, you ain't backing out of this Let." he warned playfully as he quickly trailed after her retreating figure. _

"_Try to convince me," she called over her shoulder and he was about to when he ran into another person. _

"_Oh…sorry. Didn't see ya there." Vince muttered with a down cast of his eyes before momentarily giving him a grudging look. And, well, if he didn't know any better, he would've detected a bit of sarcasm in his comment. He must've knew something was up. Did he see what he was doing with Letty? Is that why she left?_

_He narrowed his eyes on Vince. "It's cool."_

_Leon came jogging then and bent over on his knees, panting. "Yo, dawg, uh…ah…Hector wants to talk to ya, man. He's been…agh…searching everywhere for ya."_

"_What for?"_

"_I dunno, I think it's, uh...'bout the races."_

"_He'll have to wait 'til tomorrow," he stated then turned to Vince, "move."_

_Vince raised his eyebrows. "Move? You want me to move?"_

_He wasn't about to repeat it again so he waited until he got the message. Vince reluctantly stepped aside and he continued on, aware of Vince's accusing glare as he went. He knew now that he stepped in front of him on purpose. He saw what they did and didn't support them. Well, fuck him if he didn't think he loved Letty enough not to hurt her. What the hell did he know anyways? He wasn't licensed to know any shit about love–he wasn't the expert. _

_After giving it some thought, he eagerly wandered back into his house, treading forth with a mission, and found the object of his affection in the dining room—completely at ease. _

_When he approached Letty, she leant back in her chair, showing off her toned abs and belly button ring that he had kissed minutes earlier. Quite the tease. _

"_Toretto." she greeted calmly._

_He waved the others out and they quickly left without dispute. He grabbed a Corona from his fridge and stood in front of the devilish girl. He tapped the cap of his beer on the end of the table, popping it off, and took one long swig–ready to give her his own hell._

"_You're really goin' there, aren't you?" he accused, narrowing his eyes at the smug Latina in front of him._

"_What?" she asked in a fake confused tone. _

"_The 'nothing happened' card." he grumbled unhappily. She was playing with his damn emotions and she knew it._

_She smirked widely, rubbing her knuckles. "I have no idea what're talking 'bout Toretto."_

_He snorted. _Figures.

_Slowly, he sat down across from her; folding his arms and glaring at her. The stare downs he had with her were unusually long and intense. One normally won out when the other somehow broke out laughing. He could tell she was trying hard not to laugh at him, but was close to it as she stifled a laugh with her hand. She cleared her throat and tried to look serious at him, then he cocked an eyebrow, and that's all it took for her to lose. _

_He shook his head. Letty._

"_Oh, come on, why the long face? You were happy a few minutes ago." she said in between laughs._

_He glared at her. "Thanks to your teasing ass I hafta take a cold shower now." _

"_Papi, it's not so hard to get you worked up the way you are now. You're too easy." she shrugged her shoulders and clasped her fingers together._

_He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."_

"_Since you're still pouting," she said in her low husky voice, "you're not gonna drink that, are you?" she nodded towards his beer._

_He fought off a laugh, tempted to lie. "Maybe, I mi—"_

"_I didn't think so." she interrupted and picked up his bottle, holding it against her lips with her left hand while she used her thumb and index finger of her other hand to stroke the bottle in a up and downward motion. _

_He smirked. And just what would you do with those hands and mouth, Letty, if it was something bigger?_

"_You want it? Or do you want me to finish it off for you," she asked mischievously, her moist pink lips hovering just above the bottle rim._

"_Help yourself, and don't slurp this time," he said in a demanding way that made her glare at him, but she moved the bottle in a cheering motion anyways, and put it back to her lips—chugging down half the liquid. She offered it back to him and he took it, eyeing her appreciatively._

"_You wanna go upstairs, Let?" he said after a minute._

"_Depends. You gonna give me a massage?" she asked with a slight emphasis on 'massage'._

_Swiftly downing his beer, he tossed the empty bottle he had in the trash before taking her hand, and pulling her up out of her chair. "This late? I'm gonna crash, just thought you could join me."_

_She yawned. "Aaaahhh, it's probably for the best. Can't I at least get a nice rub in the shoulders?"_

_Without responding, he turned her around and skillfully kneaded his fingers into her shoulders, __running his hand over her back along the smooth tense muscles, and using__ the tips of his fingers to massage small circles around the neck area—gently __squeezing on her shoulders to loosen them up a bit__. He pressed his thumbs into her spine, putting more pressure into the knots he found, and finally after he felt satisfied with himself, he kissed her on the side of her neck before dropping his hands to her waist—hugging her from behind and nestling his head into her shoulder._

"_Better?" he whispered against her neck. _

"_A lot." she murmured softly. _

"_C'mon, let's get you to bed." he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders._

_As they made their way through the crowded living room, he turned his head to see Leon sitting on the comforter with two ladies on his lap, and he absently shook his head. Supposed to get the guests packing at this hour. _

_He shouted out over the noise, "Yo, Le shut down this party! Get everyone out and lock up!" _

_He saw Leon jump up from his spot, knocking the two girls off his lap, and replied quickly. "Gotcha. Alright, everybody out! You heard the man. Get movin'!"_

_Directing Letty towards the stairs, he was about to climb up when he was met with resistance, and he looked down at her to see what's holding her up._

"_I know this is gonna sound cheesy and shit, but…you think you could carry me?"_

_He looked at her strangely. "Huh?"_

"_My legs are feeling kinda weak."_

You kidding me?_ he thought disbelievingly. Since when did your legs go weak? And as he was about to voice his opinion out loud, he suddenly knew what her counter argument would be: Since you've made them. Yeah, it was either that or she was being a lazy ass. Still, ha, it was classic._

"_Let, that does sound cheesy. You haven't asked me to carry you since you were ten." he pointed out just to rub it in her face how weird of a request it was now compared to when she was a kid then. _

"_Please?" she begged with those dark piercing eyes of hers, and with a long sigh, he obliged; lifting her easily up in his arms as __he carefully climbed up the stairs, and made his way towards his bedroom, carrying the queen of complaints. Yeah, yeah, she got what she wanted and was being a little smug ass about it too. She had to be the death of him someday._

_As they reach his door, he set her down and let her walk in before he did—enjoying the view of her ass as she walked. He quietly closed his door__and locked it__once they were inside, turning around to face her only to get grabbed by the front of his shirt, and pulled into one helluva kiss. _

_And b__efore he could stop himself, they were both enveloped in a flaring heat of passion with her __hands running down to his shoulders, his biceps, and his chest as s__he pried open his shirt, tearing it from his body, and exposing his ripped muscles. _

_Damn, that was a real turn on._

_Obliviously to the affect she had on him, she lowered her hands down his abdomen to the front of his pants, stroking his hard cock through the denim. He growled as she did that and slammed her body against the door, flattening her between it and his chest while sliding his hands up and down her body as she laughed and ran her hands over the back of his head._

"_I think…I better get you to bed." she said huskily and he smirked._

"_No arguing with that." _

_He grabbed Letty by her waist and held her close as she forced him back until he hit the edge of his bed, and was sprawled down on his back with her on top of him. She straddled his hips and placed her hands on his bare chest as she leaned forward and licked at his earlobe, making him exhale sharply at the feel of her silky tongue._

"_We're not allowed to do anything, Letty." he reminded her and she chuckled softly._

"_On whose terms, yours or mine?" she whispered into his ear._

"_Mine and yours. No double standards." he said sternly, knowing it had to be the right thing to do. _

_They wouldn't have sex until she was ready and until she was of age. He wouldn't pressure her into it 'cause he had already done it and was a man with needs, although he might have to control himself around her when they were alone. The only problem he saw with that was finding a way to relieve himself when they did take it too far. However, it was gonna be fun experimenting different ways. Maybe they didn't have to hold back too much. _

_Feeling he had to crown the king now, he gently nudged her away, and sat up in his bed as she climbed off of him. He went to his closet and grabbed one of his towels Mia had washed and folded, and started heading for the bathroom. _

"_What're you doin'?" she asked curiously as he reached for a bottle of lotion on the dresser on his way out._

"_You don't wanna know." he replied nonchalantly. _

"_Oh, right, you have to go apply the handbrake. Need a hand with that?" she teased smugly, and he had to ground down his teeth together to hold in a retort. Fucking mind reader._

"_So am I gonna have to show you how to use it or what?" she smiled with a slight twitch of her mouth._

"_Ha, ha, she's the comedian." he said wryly, leaving behind a snickering Letty. He'll deal with her later. She was tempting the hell out of him._

…

**AN: Hey guys! I'd just like to apologize for the long wait. My Internet was turned off and I only just got it turned back on a few days ago. I hope you know that I haven't forgotten this story, in fact, it's the only thing I've been working on for the past month. This chapter turned out longer than I expected-it exceeded 8 thousand words, so I had to cut off the rest of Dom's dream, and add it on to the next chapter. I'd just like to thank all those who've reviewed, you guys are amazing and you keep me going with your encouraging words. I'd like to send a special thanks to dandani for the love. I'll be posting the next chapter in a couple of days. Thanks for reading and have a very Merry Christmas!**


	8. Sweet Devil of Mine

…_._

_Once he got back from his fast shower, feeling like a brand new man, he grinned widely as he saw her from the doorway in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, sitting up against the headboard—a car magazine in hand. All of her makeup was gone and her hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders, but somehow, even without the cover up, she was still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Natural._

_He quickly noticed how her eyes flicked over his body—taking in whatever she saw with an interest, and he suddenly realized that he was standing in front of her half naked, a towel wrapped around his waist. _

_He smirked. _

_This was gonna be fun. Time for a little payback._

_With a long dramatic yawn, he stretched out his arms behind his head and flexed his biceps, making the veins pop out impressively from his skin. He closed the door, locked it, and strutted over to the middle of his room, knowing she was watching him—piqued with curiosity, he bets—and moved his hands over his towel. He fooled around with the tag a little, just to draw out the time, but then with a devilish grin, he casually let the white cloth slip to the floor, and walked over to his dresser, looking inside it for another pair of his boxers; nude and aware._

_At this he knew with all his experience that he was not only giving her wet dreams tonight, but he was also starring in them. Letty had only seen him naked once—on accident, a memory he could recall happened in the summer of 96 when the air conditioning's fuse got blown, and he was sweating like fuck from the California heat. In the safety of his room, he took off his clothes to cool off, but Letty—ha, young, impulsive, reckless, ' I don't care to knock' Letty—came flying through his door to hyperventilate at him and tell him his dad had called to say he qualified for NHRA'S finals in Pomona in the pro stock division. _

_Course, he didn't know whether she was just hysterically happy from the news or having a full on panic attack, so he scrambled up from his bed to check on her and forgot about his nudity. He instantly saw the flush of her face and the widening look in her eyes when she took him in, and although it scared the shit out of him, it also gave him a secret thrill that he could make her stutter like the ADD kid he met outside Bob's Market, the boy he took under his wing—the mad scientist. _

_And now, yep, now he was just giving her a free show of what grew since then, and what's to come down the road if she chose to be with him. Of what could be hers someday and just an hour ago, was nudging its way through her skirt. He knew he was beckoning those erotic feelings inside her that maybe she had never really felt from any man—not likely. Girls were usually easy to arouse, but Letty, no, Letty wasn't just _any_ girl. She could perhaps be _the_ girl and it took more than a little finessing to get a reaction out of her. He had to hit it where it hurt and right now it hurt a little below the waistline._

_Liking the way her cheeks flushed as he turned around, he intentionally dropped his boxers and leaned forward to pick them up, all the while keeping eye contact with her. She quickly turned her head away, and knowing he wasn't acting the way a responsible adult should around a 15 year old, he pulled on his boxers and one of his new basketball shorts he had never worn. _

_Well, it was probably wicked—and sinful—of him, but she did tempt the hell out of him earlier and teased him for it. He only saw that it was fair that he returned the favor._

_He saw her open her mouth to speak, but he just grunted to himself as he uncapped the lotion he took with him and lazily started rubbing himself down; rubbing across his chest, his stomach, and his arms. Anything that would incite a response out of her. He drew it out for as long as he could._

_After he was done, he watched how those same eyes traveled down from his shaved head to his clean, smooth face to his upper body—staring intently at his wide broad shoulders, his six-pack, and the bulk of his arms—of the contour of his muscles. _

_Yeah, he knew he looked good. Why wouldn't he? He didn't bench press 185 for nothing. He was already making a name for himself in L.A., so he had to keep up his reputation, and that meant keeping up his appearance too. He wasn't gonna let some kid or wannabe hot shot take all the attention. Not today. _

"_Ready for bed?" he asked smugly. _

_Letty didn't say anything, but finally rolled her eyes at him as he gave one last flex of his arms above his head, then switched off the lamp; declaring their night over._ _He climbed into his bed and lifted the cover she was sitting on. _

_There was a lot of sexual tension between them from his dirty trick, but he chose to ignore it as he let her crawl in right next to him—for her sake. And before she could get in a comfortable position, he grabbed her around the waist, and wrapped his arm around her petite body in a firm hold; pulling her so she was flush against him. Their legs found themselves being tangled with each other and he rested his head into the crook of her neck. _

_God, she really did feel like she was made for his arms; as if they were a timing belt and a pulley in a car—a chain and a sprocket in a motorcycle. They couldn't really function without each other. They had been friends for so long, it felt natural that they'd become lovers too. His sister had always teased him about it and he always denied it would happen. But he was glad he was wrong. She was still a bit too young and his pops would slaughter him for his actions towards her, but he knew where he stood. He just wished he and the rest would get it around their heads too. Especially Vince. _

_He couldn't really jeopardize a possible future he could have with her 'cause of the opinions of his family. They either had his back or they didn't, whatever, he didn't care. He just wanted reassurance and support on behalf of Letty. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable having to put up with their attitude 'cause they didn't want her with him. It wouldn't be enjoyable for her and it would annoy the fuck out of him. And if he got with her, it'd be his first real relationship, and he didn't want to share that with any other girl the way he wanted to share it with her. He wanted her and everyone else to see that. Killing any lingering doubt there was. _

_'Cause Letty had been the only girl he knew in his life who could put him in his place. Who could challenge him and make him feel understood like no other person could. She was the grin on his face and the sexy rumble in his throat. He knew she felt the same way and tried hard to fight against it—actually, for years now, but really? How could anyone fight against their own fate? Was that shit even possible? _

_It made him wonder briefly if death could even pry them apart. He doubted it. He sure as hell wasn't fighting it anymore._

_He slipped one hand underneath her shirt to rest on her side, savoring the warmth of her bare skin there, and was surprised that she had placed her hand over his. Forgiveness was definitely her gift. Might just be useful for him someday._

_He dropped a kiss on the side of her neck then yawned before closing his eyes. "Night Let." _

"_Night." she responded with a content sigh and he slowly drifted off to sleep, breathing in the coconut scent of her hair, and feeling more relaxed than he had in days._

_Tonight went better than he expected. _

_He finally got his prize. His trophy._

* * *

_Sunlight rays shone through the blinds of his window and he grumbled loudly as he rolled over to avoid the yellow light, stretching his arm over his face to cover his eyes._

_"Ugh," he felt someone groan and stir beside him and he automatically smiled, remembering his night with Letty._

_He removed his arm from his eyes and looked over at the staticky haired girl in his bed. He chuckled softly as he stared down at her face. She looked so relaxed, so content when she was asleep. He loved watching this Letty while she slept. Only then did she really look like an angel…so damn innocent._

"_Morning." he murmured softly against her cheek, pressing his lips on her tender skin, gently moving them along her nose and her jaw._

_Letty peered at him with heavy lidded eyes and gave him a tiny flash of a smile. Oh yeah, she remembered too._

_He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips, caressing her cheek as she smiled against his mouth. "Morning."_

"_How'd you sleep?" he asked rubbing his hand over her tight stomach and absently stroking the ends of her curled hair._

"_Good." she replied a little hoarsely, her voice thick with sleep._

_He maneuvered her so she was lying over him and her hair was extended across his chest. "Mmmm…me too." Very good actually. Very, very good._

_She looked down then with a small smile on her lips and her index finger tracing patterns across his exposed pecs. When she brought her eyes back up to him, he noticed that nervous look she had when something was bothering her._

_Using his coaxing voice, he tried to get her to tell him what's wrong. "What's up Let?" _

"_Nothing…" she responded coolly_

_Nah, it was obvious. Something was on her mind. She was just being stubborn. _

"_Letty don't bullshit with me. I can tell when you're lying." he said sternly. _

...

"_Well…" she started finally, leaving the sentence open. _

"_Well what?" he prompted. _

_She sighed loudly then brushed her hair back. _

"_You did give me something to dream about though." she muttered sheepishly._

_He furrowed his brow. _

_Dream about? Dream about…what was she—oh._

_He grinned then, understanding. "Oh yeah? Did it have anything to do with last night?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow, implying his towel carelessly slipping through his fingers. Intentionally slipping through his fingers. _

"_Yeah. You fight dirty."_

_He laughed deeply. "Now you know what it feels like," he teased then kissed her again, deepening the kiss until they broke apart, and she laid her head on his chest. _

"_No more teasing." he said more seriously and he felt her nod._

"_I think I learned my lesson." she admitted, her husky voice muffled against him. She was a tough soldier. Never afraid to tell him what she wanted to, even if it was embarrassing._

_He closed his eyes, feeling her warm breath on his chest which made his stomach feel weird, and his heart rate go frenzy. Damn, she had her hands wrapped deep in him. _

_There was small knock at the door then and his eyes snapped open._

"_Dom, breakfast," Mia announced on the other side. "You too Letty." she added in a knowing tone._

_Letty sat up on him in a panic. "Shit! How does she know I'm in here?" she hissed at him, her eyes darting back from the door to his face._

"_I carried you up the stairs, remember?" he reminded then chuckled. "Must've saw us."_

"_It's not funny Dom. Fuck, I totally forgot about her." _

_He chuckled again and she rolled off of him as he sat up. _

_With a gruff sigh, he got up to stand—popping his back, and stretching out his limbs. She buried herself back in his sheets and threw the cover over her head. _

_Hmm…kinda strange he didn't feel exhausted. He really hadn't slept as peaceful as he did last night. Not in a long time. He'd have to bring her to his bed more often._

_"Alright, time to get up Oscar." He pulled the top cover off of her and yanked the blanket from underneath. _

_There's no way she's sleeping in. Not with today's shipment. They just got the mother load of imported parts, and they needed to put in serious wrench time. It required all of them, so the Team better damn well be in decent condition or they're gonna have the worst of hang overs in their short lives. _

_She groaned in response, but moved to get up. "Alright, I'm up—wait, did you just call me a grouch?"_

_Uh-oh. Busted._

"_Now why would you think I'd call you a bushy-browed, furry little green thing living in a garbage can? You certainly don't look like one, so...wh—what makes you think you act like on—one too." he teased with a slight twitch of his mouth, trying to holding in the laugh escaping his mouth._

"_I'll give you a grouch." she muttered before throwing a pillow over at him. _

_He caught it easily and made a face at her. "Ha, missed! Someone has a weak arm."_

_She threw another one at him and his arm shot up to block it. When it fell to the floor, she casually walked over to him—bending forward to retrieve it from the ground—then gave him a coy smile. _

"_Alright Dom, truce." she said, placing the pillow back on his bed. _

Good_, he thought, and turned around to find some clothes. But then a voice in the back of his head said it was a bad idea, and before he could react, he heard her quickly snatch up the pillow, and throw it at his head—full force._

_He closed his eyes as it hit him in the back of his head and started slowly counting back from ten. _

Ten.

_He narrowed his eyes as he turned around to face her, and she started to hum loudly to herself, twisting her hair, and staring up at the ceiling. _

Nine.

_He could tell she was trying hard not to laugh, but wasn't even close to succeeding. Ready to break down at any minute._

Eight.

_"Letty." his voice rose in a warning and she shot him an innocent look as he glared back at her._

"_Dom."_

Seven.

"_You got about seven seconds to apologize or you're gonna regret what's coming next." _

_She scrunched her face in thought for a moment, but then shrugged. "Nah, I think I'm good." _

Six.

"_You sure 'bout that? It won't end well."_

Five.

"_What? I'm supposed to be scared? Oh no Dominic's gonna turn into the hulk! Run for your lives! Pfft, yeah right."_

Four.

"_You sure you wanna stall? Got less than five seconds now."_

Three.

"_Tick tock. Tick tock." she mocked in a bored voice._

Two.

"_Alright you've asked for it."_

One.

_When he got to one, he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her roughly on the bed, jumping in next to her to tickle her mercilessly on the sides while she yelped out in surprise. He pinched her lightly on the hip before continuing to attack her stomach, and her sensitive spot that was just below her armpit. She was laughing uncontrollably into the bed as he tickled her, trying to arch her body away from him, but then he stretched out over her so she wouldn't escape—lying across her until she was buried underneath him and all his weight. _

_Trapped, it was either apologize or suffocate. But she had her pride so he had to have a backup plan in case she didn't cave. Which she won't. _

"_Dom…Dom, I can't breathe._

"_Hmm...what was that? Couldn't hear you?"_

"_Damn it Dom! I'm gonna hurt you so bad!" _

"_Oh really? I'd like to see that," he taunted then picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. "But someone needs a shower first."_

"_DOM! Put me down! Pinche pendajo!" she yelled as he walked down the hall towards the bathroom, carrying the indignant, rebellious, defying teenager on his shoulder._

_Now that couldn't go unpunished. _

"_That's not nice, Let." he reprimanded and paused for a second before smacking her hard in the ass. ._

"_Te juro que voy a patear el culo por esto! (I swear I'm gonna kick your ass for this!) Arrrgghh! Dom!" lapsing into a fit of Spanish curses and threats._

_He laughed his deep throaty laugh and she beat against his back with her fists for it, but it just made him laugh harder, and he smacked her again—producing another outrageous cry from her, and she doubled her efforts to get loose from him._

"_You're gonna hafta try harder than that Let."_

"…_Dom?" she asked suddenly in a very calm tone._

_He stopped. "What?"_

"Please_ let me go."_

_He considered it for a minute, then shook his head. "Nope. Not 'til you say you're sorry," She tried to pull out of his grip again, but he kept his arm securely around her. "Say it Leticia."_

_She growled viciously and punched him one last time before saying in the barest of whispers. "Sorry."_

_He smiled triumphantly and placed her back on the ground. He wished he had a camera to record this moment. This self-defining moment of victory over the badass who never apologized to anybody. He had won and hell yeah it felt good. Like he won ten grand in a race._

_She tried shoving him into the bathroom door, but he locked up on his feet and circled his arm over her neck, ruffling her already messy hair._

"_Goddammit Dom, I said I'm sorry! Stop it! Asshole!" she complained, trying to loosen his grip._

_"Aww, but it's too easy," he protested jokingly before releasing her. "You're too easy." _

_She rolled her eyes at him and jerked away. "You're such a dick sometimes."_

_"What? Need another reminder?" he jested, lounging against the bathroom door and smiling cockily at her._

_She flipped him off over her shoulder. "Now go away Dom, so I won't make you go cross eyed."_

_Chuckling, he spun her around to face him and pulled her into his embrace; resting his chin on top of her head, breathing in her scent, and giving her a peck on the lips before closing the door behind him—letting her take a shower._

_He heard her exaggerated groan and a loud thump on the door. Then another one. And another one. Until finally that god awful sound went away as he opened the door to his room._

Bang, bang Nancy sang but no one's hitting the ground,_ he thought amusingly. Your baby hasn't shot you down either, so no need to be melodramatic Let. _

_Smiling, he went over to his bed and landed flat out on his back to relax, but only for one damn second before he hesitantly got up and walked over to the closet to throw on some clothes before heading downstairs to breakfast. He just wanted to wait for Letty and fall asleep again._

_However, as soon as he closed his door and treaded through the hall, he could already smell Mia's homemade pancakes, eggs, and bacon. And just as he reached the bottom step, he quickly headed for the kitchen, and he quietly thanked God again for gracing his sister with his ma's cooking abilities. His stomach was empty and he needed the energy to fix his new Mazda RX-7. He never should've let Leon test drive it._

_Everyone from the Team looked up at him as he entered the dining room, except for Mia who was standing—her back to him—stirring something in the pan with a spatula. They watched him carefully as he went to the cupboard to pull out a plate, and as he handed it over to Mia so she could serve him his food. And although he thought she was the only one who was gonna take it easy on him for his audacity last night, she gave him a look and he knew immediately that it wasn't likely anymore. _

_Great. Not only was he gonna get interrogated by the Team, he also had to put up with his sister. He forgot how nosy she could get sometimes._

_When he sat at the head of the table, they all glanced over at him cautiously and he had to fight back the urge to throw his plate at them. God, can't they just fucking leave it alone? __He already knew that she was his and that they were gonna be together. So why can't they accept it? 'Cause none of them—none of them—was gonna change his mind. Or he'll break their necks._

_Letty came down then—hot and gorgeous—and took a seat next to Leon at the table. Leon was the first one to reach for his food, so he had to say grace while they bowed their heads. Letty seemed unaware of all their gawking when she ate and was chewing her food loudly. He smiled faintly at her across the table. She always kept her cool around them._

"_So how was everyone's night?" Mia asked no one particular and there was a clank of forks on plates as everyone stopped eating, and stared over at her._

_Vince had his eyes locked on him before answering. "I dunno, why don't we ask Dom?" _

_Mia raised her eyebrows. "Dom?"_

_He stared hard at Vince before wiping his mouth with his napkin, slowly chewing down his food, then standing up from his chair. He went over to the sink and placed his plate in there before turning around, and almost running into his 110 lb baby sister. _

"_So are you going to tell me about what you were doing last night? With Letty in your room?" she asked lowly, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Letty who was at the moment joking around with Jesse._

"_I'll take the fifth on that." he said evenly and she crossed her arms across her chest. _

_"Dom."_

_He sighed. "Mi, just drop it."_

"_Why? What happened Dom? What did you two do?" _

_She was leaning against the countertop with a weary expression on her face and her hands now pressed in the back of her pockets. That meant only one thing. She was in defensive mode._

_"Nothing." he offered after a minute. "We didn't do anything."_

_She stared at him for a while, probably trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. And maybe it wasn't the whole truth, but they hadn't done anything that was deemed illegal…at least he thought so._

"_She seems…a little on edge." she whispered finally—low enough for only his ears. _

_He looked over at Letty and examined the way she held herself now compared to this morning when she was still in bed—before she came down for breakfast. The Team had given her a reason to be anxious with their fucking observing and their other nosy ass shit. Yeah, it seemed she has been edgy since she came down, but he knew that was only 'cause of the dumbass sitting next to her. _

"_Vince." he replied gruffly and Mia nodded her head._

"_He never does grow up, does he?"_

_With a roll of his eyes, he walked over to refrigerator and pulled out a Corona before replying with a stiff 'nope'. They both stared over at the bearded guy they've known all their lives since he met him in the third grade. The guy he considered his brother, but was at the moment, getting all over his back about Letty, and putting a strain on their friendship. _

"_You two were bound to happen sometime." Mia said straightforwardly. "You know, Letty? And maybe it wasn't in the simplest way, but you shouldn't let that stop you from being with her. She makes you happy. I know it."_

_He averted his eyes over to Letty and took in her laid back attitude and reserved demeanor. Then she smirked that contagious smirk of hers and then he just had to grin. Yeah…she did make him happy. He felt the change within himself when he was around her. "And her? What can you tell about her?" _

_Mia smiled at him in amusement. "Yeah, big brother, I think you make her happy too. I can hardly remember a time she looked as happy as this."_

"_Since her dad gave her his tags." he supplied in a softer tone._

"_Ah, she bragged about him for months." she agreed, laughing at the memory of a happier Letty. When her parents were still alive and her brothers were still around. Times have changed and it wasn't easy for them when she went through the loss of her father, mother, and brothers. Whenever she was unhappy, so was he and then everyone else would suffer 'cause they were both in dark moods. They were that in sync. He felt her pain like it was his own._

"_Yeah." he murmured._

_Mia bent her head to the side and frowned. "Vince is gonna act like an asshole for a couple of days, but give it some time, he'll get used to the idea."_

"_Just like he got used to the idea of you two being friends?" he reminded as she walked over to the refrigerator, placing the jug of orange juice back inside._

_She grimaced. "Okay, maybe give it a little over a month."_

That's what I thought_, he thought knowingly as he walked back over to the table. He was determined to ignore Vince's childish behavior towards him as he stood in front of Letty. He couldn't back out of his resolve to be with her 'cause of his pigheadedness. They were meant to be, regardless of his past. Vince was just gonna have to deal with it._

"_So Dom you take any freaks to bed last night?" Leon said conversationally and he gave him a hard look. _

Fucking dumbass_, he thought irritatedly. _You really didn't notice?

"_Really? Were you that hammered not to notice who he went upstairs with?" Letty answered for him in a dry voice, a cold glint in her eyes. _

_An uncomfortable silence fell in the room and two/fifths of the Team shifted their gazes away from her as they tried to figure out what she meant while the rest held their ground—firmly in their positions._

_Vince spoke up then. "I bet it was someone really special, heh? Ain't that right Dom? Someone familiar."_

_Usually he would just lounge against something and pretend not to have heard anything Vince said about his business, but he felt his jaw flex at his suggestion, and he wanted to tear his throat out 'cause he said it in front of Letty. But he was gonna show him who had the bigger balls though by letting it go._

"_Ready?" he asked Letty, vaguely aware of four sets of eyes on him in the room, although he could guess what each of them were: one cautious and weary, one confused and blinking rapidly, one hard and accusing, and one gentle and supporting. _

_Letty frowned. "Where to?"_

"_Harry's." he replied simply, careful not to reveal anything in his face. _

"_Alright then."_

_He didn't pay the Team any attention as he walked out of the room with Letty in silence, and he didn't care if they saw him as he firmly took Letty's hand once they were outside. He didn't even give a backward glance. _

_He tried the best he could to tune out their bullshit, but he really couldn't help overhearing their hushed whispers centered around him and Letty: "Umm...Vince did you see who he was with last night?" and "Vince, why are they both acting weird and together?"_

_He sighed. _

_Gonna be a long day._

* * *

_**[A few hours later]**_

_"So did you get that starter replaced?" he asked Vince gruffly as he came out of the office after talking to Harry on the phone, and rolled back underneath the car that he was working on. _

_Alright, so he degreased the engine block, worked around the valve covers—underneath the engine and around the oil pan. He already let the engine run to find the leak. Filter was tight and posed no problem. So the gasket probably needed replacing. Yeah, that had to be it._

_When he realized Vince hadn't answered him, he glanced sideways at him and found him wiping his hands with a rag; no friendly expression on his face. So you're still gonna be that way, huh? _ _"Don't have ears Vince?" he barked. _

Vince stared over at him with a steady gaze before answering."'_Bout a half an hour ago….Are we gonna talk 'bout what you did with Letty?" finally cutting to the chase and not dancing around the subject anymore. _

"_Wait, what?" Leon exclaimed from his spot on the ground, oblivious to the real subject of their conversation this morning. "What happened dawg?"_

None of your fucking business_, he thought cuttingly before speaking to Vince. "No," he said firmly in his authoritive voice, "so don't push it."_

"_Seriously, dawg, what happened?" Leon urged, but he ignored him as he got up to peer inside the hood of car. He turned on the stereo to drown out the noise around him. And hopefully the world._

"_So you and Letty, huh?" Vince scoffed out loud as he leaned against the 1965 Chevy Impala he was tuning. _

_Fuck, he should've bought that new sound system when Harry offered. He didn't want to listen to his best friend embarrassing himself. He didn't want to discuss it. _

"_Are—are they dating?" Jesse asked nervously, his eyes blinking too fast as he looked between him and Vince, and then behind him as if Letty was somewhere nearby. He scanned the garage himself, but she wasn't anywhere near. Probably back at the store with Mia. _

_"Obviously," Vince chuckled darkly at him, making him wince. "Because Dommy boy here dates. He replaces one girl after another like they're food on a plate, and now that he's built a rep for himself, he has a flock of women lined up that he could pick from, but he would rather settle for our underage Letty. Letty."_

_He clenched his fists and set his jaw tightly, dangerously close to hitting that fucking smug look on his bearded face._

"_So are you proud yourself huh Dom? Taking advantage of our girl like that?"_

_"Umm Vince...you shouldn't—" Jesse tried to warn when Vince cut him off. _

_"—She's fine, I know, but dating isn't really your style bro, and you'll end up hurting her. So why bother? It would do collateral damage on all of us. Then you'll have to answer afterward, heh? For breaking her heart." _

_Ending the conversation on that rough note, Vince rolled back underneath the car with a sneer, and he had barely registered the lift of his cheek when he said that, and he was too pissed—too angered—to let that go easily. _

_With a grunt, he violently seized the bottom of the creeper Vince was laying on, and wrenched it from underneath him, making his back hit the cement floor in a loud thud. Vince, caught off guard, yelled furiously, "What the hell are you doing man?"_

_He didn't answer, but kicked Vince in the stomach as he turned over on his side. He kicked him so fucking hard that he knocked the wind out of him. It had him lying there, sputtering and cursing in pain. He noticed that Jesse and Leon were both looking at each other with wide eyes, and he knew what they were thinking. He had never been violent towards Vince that was not brotherly. Ever. But he crossed that line today._

_Breathing heavily, he crouched down next to the gasping Vince. He wanted to muster up the courage to say sorry—it had been a whim, an impulse to hit him, but now that he done it…he never expected it would make him feel less guilty. And actually, he welcomed the feeling. He also welcomed the scared look that was on Vince's face. _

_Good, let him be scared. _

_He heard his own deep voice threaten dangerously as he stood back up. "If you ever suggest that to me again, you're gonna regret it. You could argue with me if you want but it's pointless. I ain't incapable of loving Letty," He turned to walk away but glanced back over his shoulder, "And don't assume I'll be lightly next time." he added, and as Letty walked into the garage suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. _

_A knowing look passed between them as she proceeded walking towards Vince as he remained still, watching her._

"_Here Vince, let me help you up," she said calmly when she was in front of him and offered him her hand. _

_And as Vince reluctantly took it, he felt a little bit betrayed as she actually hauled him up, and patted him on the shoulder. He expected a fist to the jaw at least. "You good?"_

"_Yeah. Thanks." he nodded at her gratefully and she smiled a little._

"_No prob, just gotta learn how to avoid a kick when you see it. Hey later you wanna go get some grub?" she asked suddenly, raising one eyebrow._

"_Sure. I'll pay." _

"_Cool man." she replied coolly._

_He shook his head in disbelief. Thought he wasn't alone in this._

_But as she turned around and locked eyes with him, he finally saw the hidden intent, and although he scarcely caught it, she gave him a small wink. _

"_Oh, and Vince," she spun around quickly and decked him in the stomach, putting all her weight into it. Vince doubled back and clutched at his stomach, falling back on his ass. "I can handle myself when it comes to Dom. Like it or not, I'm his problem now. You gotta say anything else?"_

"…_No…" he gasped out, his face turning an ugly shade of red. _

"_Didn't think so." She looked back at him then and smirked, heading in his direction. Now there's his sweet little devil. _

"_You had me worried there," he teased, reaching out and gently pulling her to stand between his legs. "Thought you were gonna fold."_

_She snorted. "I thought I told you Toretto I know who I wanted. I just didn't know if anyone would agree with me. But you wanna know what?" she said with a slight undertone of menace. _

_He grinned_. "_What?" _

"_They could go fuck themselves."_

_Ha, ha, Letty._

_"Looks like you showed Vince up." he nodded over at the puzzled man on the floor._

_"Yeah, and I'll show those two up too if they got their heads up their asses too."_

_He clutched Letty to himself and she wrapped her arms around him. "There's no stopping you. I've got you, Let." he reassured her._

_She smiled hugely at him. "You better." _

_He kissed her again gently before resting his forehead against hers."Mi amor."_

* * *

_*Vibrating phone*_

_Zzzzzzz. Zzzzzzz. Zzzzzzz. Zzzzzzz._

_Then ringtone—_

_Las manos arriba cintura sola, da media vuelta danza kuduro, no te canses ahora que esto solo empieza, mueve la cabeza danza kuduro, las manos arriba cintura sola, da media vuelta danza kuduro, no te canses ahora que esto solo empieza, mueve la cabeza danza kuduro…_

"_Fuck…"Dom mumbled as he stretched out his limbs against the ceiling of his car, and his foot pedals—gruffly reaching for his cell phone. He checked the I.D. and realized it was Han. What the hell is he thinking? It's dangerous to talk to him here._

_He pushed the answer button anyway. "What is it, Han?" _

_"Dom, listen to me—shit, hold on a sec." _

_The reception was cut and then he heard dial tone. _

_What? Did he just hang up on him? _

_He sorted through the contact list and redialed another number of Han's. He waited irritably as it rang two times. "Hello, Dom?"_

_"Han, what were you calling for? I told you it should be for emergencies only."_

_"I'm in Berlin and so is Gisele," Han got out hurriedly then in the background, "I'm trying to tell him, alright?"_

_He huffed. "Han, what's that have to do with me?"_

_"Well...Dom, we're in trouble up here."_

_He furrowed his eyebrows. That was an exchange he never heard before. It was usually him that was in trouble. What have they been getting up to?_

_"Dom? We need help. It's...its Letty."_

_For a moment he was silent, trying to comprehend what was being said to him, but then after a minute he chuckled darkly, menacingly. "You better hope I don't see your ass anytime soon chameleon, cause' that pitch line wasn't funny, and I will break your neck if you try to use it on me again."_

_He was about to hang up when suddenly he heard Gisele's voice, "Dom. We saw her. And we have evidence that proves she's alive. There is a warrant out for her arrest. Hobbs is likely heading out here—probably already on the flight to Berlin. Dom, you need to trust us. We're not lying. So gather up the men and meet us at the private airstrip . We're gonna need a plan." _

_She hung up the phone._

_Dom stared at it. He felt his mouth open and close and his eyes blink rapidly._

_He felt a sense of warmth come from somewhere in his chest._

_Letty..._

* * *

He woke up with a start, looking wildly around him and his surroundings.

…He was in a bed.

Fuck.

It was just a dream? Why'd the hell did it feel so real though?

**AN: So was it a dream? It sure seems like it to Dom, but remember he's not in his right head right now because of Letty. Letty gives him a reason to feel a little insane.** **Next chapter will include different points of view (La Cosa Nostra, Tej and Rome, and a new group of ladies who are connected to Oksana and her mother and who are called the Femme Fatales—deadly women) and this chapter will be shorter. Then we'll see Letty back in October when she wakes up at the hacienda. I'll be introducing Ana and the rest of the girls who've helped her with the heist. Then we'll see the present day with Han and Gisele and how they sign up for another job—a job assigned by none other than Letty herself. **


	9. Behind Enemy Lines

**Before you read this, I promise that the chapter after the next two will have Gisele and Han in it. They will be in Berlin, and they will be meeting Luciana aka Letty for a private meeting. And they will **_**not**_** be alone. I just have to introduce Letty's crew-her home girls, to the mix first and there's also Tej and Rome's chapter too. Well enjoy. **

* * *

**Red Light District Strip Club, Berlin, Germany 11:05 p.m.**

**May 13, 2012**

It was a Junggesellenabschied.

There were a lot of frat guys in attendance who've spent half of their night at Belushi's bar, and were now enjoying the rest of the bachelor's party at the Red District strip club. Two half-naked women were swaying their hips on the blue neon light stage, two silver poles on opposite ends, and runaway purple and red lights cast above. It had white plush couches and round metal tables in dark blue curtain booths with diamond chandeliers. It wasn't the most expensive place, but it was accommodating—a least enough to satisfy the everyday adulterer's unfulfilled fantasies and desires. Men don't pay for the sexual transmitted diseases. They pay for a good time and they get their money's worth.

The frat boys were cheering on the soon to be groom as he was getting a strip tease by another stripper on stage. She was blindfolding him, using a whip on him, and telling him to recite his vows in German—which he was failing to do, and they were drunkenly whistling, clapping, and howling when she smeared her lipstick on his lips and licked it off.

But when five beautiful women suddenly walked into the club, accompanied by an anxious-looking woman, all the men including him were silenced—awestruck by the sight of the European women. The women were all dressed in corset, bustier-like wear, but in different styles.

The first of the women carried herself forward, boldly towards the bar counter.

Judging by her stature, she was a self-assured girl, very headstrong, and unafraid to express herself through her movements. She was medium height, beige skinned with light brown-hair that shone with a vibrant luster, and grey eyes that were dancing with mischief. The rose plump lips she had took on a slight pout as she leaned over the counter and waved over at the waiter. She wore a black faux leather corset mini dress, golden hoop earrings, and knee high boots. Her name was Roxanne. They called her Rox.

The second woman was more confident.

Slender and porcelain, she had a strut—a sway to her hips that gave everyone the impression that she was nobody's eye candy, and she would very much like to kick everyone's ass for staring at hers. Her hair was the color of fire and it cascaded like tresses down her back, reaching almost to her waist. She had a freckled nose and her lips were full and sensuous; her eyes a daunting blue. She was wearing a sexy leopard corset dress with black stilettos and a black bowtie. She was the right hand of their leader and her name was Jezebel—which she hates, so they call her Jez instead.

"A brandy fix," she said casually to the bartender, then added rougher. "Jetzt! (Now!) "

The third woman was right at her elbow.

This one walked so gracefully that she seemed to float through the room instead of walk, wearing a white tight-lacing corset wedding dress with see through sleeves that hung a little off her shoulders. She was completely unaware of the effect she had on those around her as she headed for the chair next to Jez.

The bartender who left at Jez's command, appeared again, and nearly dropped their drinks as he saw the third woman.

She was fair with curls loosen at the ends of her long pale golden hair. Her light brown eyebrows arched delicately over the softness of her eyes, and gave her that innocent look in which she was named for—Angel. There was a tiny beauty mark by her lip and when she smiled everyone nearly died at the sheer loveliness of it. The third, well, she was more reserved than the other two. They sometimes called her Angie.

Her full lips curved into a smile, "_Schönen dank _(Many thanks)."

The bartender's mouth opened, but no words issued forth as she took a strong sip of her drink. He'd like to extend his own gratitude for such cordial manner, but he knew it would just come out sounding pathetic. He'd look pathetic.

He nodded and went to leave, but stopped once he laid eyes on the fourth woman.

The fourth one, oh yeah, the fourth one had that sensual look about her that drove men wild with the thoughts of a Hollywood actress. She would be the ultimate sex symbol of any man's dreams. She wore a Bebe red halter dress, a red fur coat, red silk gloves, and red satin heels. None of the guys in the room—not one of them—could tear their eyes away from her.

She had dark, dark brown hair pinned to the side with curls, strikingly blue eyes along with blood red lips, and an elegant arched black brow. Whenever her eyes met those of another, it was as if they held within them a knowing look—as if she knew exactly what's to come for them in the future. As she smiled, she exposed to them her perfect, straight white teeth, and they naturally had to blush.

She was the most beautiful woman they've ever seen. She was the leader of the crew and her name was Victoria…Vicky.

The fifth woman, however, was the most indifferent as she walked to the counter.

Although her eyes were set a little far apart and her nostrils were flared, wide with a bridge that was very short—a tip that was round, her facial features were edgy with a violet streak of dye in her black cropped hair that complemented nicely against her caramel brown skin. She had violet lips and a tattoo of a scorpion by her left eye. Her eyes were exotic and cat-like; a smoldering green with a tinge of brown, and although they held a guarded look within them, they also held a blatant dislike for everyone around her as if she didn't giving a flying fuck who they were. She wore a classic purple corset vintage dress. She was Mercedes aka Mercy.

Femme fatales. That's who they were.

But most importantly, they were hired, skilled, precise killers. Sex slaves that once belonged to Vladimir. Now they were well-known criminals, hijackers, snipers, fugitives, etc. And right now they've been called for a task and they waited patiently for their hostess to arrive.

The frat guys watched them with fascination—lust.

'Cause from the first moment they walked in, they had lost interest in the strippers in front of them, nervously trying to take a chance and talk to the ladies, and as oblivious as they were to the sneaking figures that were coming from the back of the stage, they were also really caught off guard on what happened next.

An ambush. None of them saw it coming.

And as Vicky glanced up at the sudden noise from the stage—a blood curdling scream, her intense gaze that had swept across the room a minute ago, was peering behind her, and then a dangerous smile formed on the edges of her lips as she made eye contact with an icy blue eyed woman with light blond hair.

She made a noise of acknowledgment. "Oksana." Her voice resonated with a Russian accent.

"Victoria, you are ahead of schedule," Oksana said, walking up to the beautiful vixen. "Sorry for the disturbance." wiping off the remaining stripper's blood on her switchblade with her handkerchief as the frat boys were suddenly being hauled away by the Russian mobsters—Nestor handling the groom.

Murder, yes, murder was Oksana's second nature, and she didn't hesitate to kill the bitch that was whoring herself on the groom. Although it was the stripper's work field, it was very un-lady like to her.

Victoria nodded in assessment, speaking English. "It is fine. It needed some redecorating and you do it well. Where is your brother going?"

A tinkering laugh escaped Oksana's throat. "Nestor could never stay still for long. He is going to take them to the back streets. He is going to vent out his frustrations on the groom using his brass knuckles. "

"He has not located them yet?"

Oksana snickered. "Those Italians…evade not only the public eye, but the Russian. We will find them and make them pay for stealing Papa's trucks. I will kill them myself. "

Shifting in her seat, Victoria measured the Russian-Ukrainian daughter of Vladimir and Kostya with fixed eyes, and faintly sighed. She really was her father's daughter—evil, unmerciful. If Kostya had gotten away from Vladimir, she could have had a different life. Nestor too.

But what good would that do now? What choice did they have?

"So what is this meeting for?"

"We have a job for you. It requires skill that your ladies have. And…your new recruit there." Oksana motioned to Angel who took another sip of her brandy fix, delicately licking her lips.

Her mouth was turned down when Oksana approached them, and she creased her brows in deep thought. Something was wrong. She knew a distraught Angel when she saw it. She will have to straighten that out later.

Oksana quickly looked Angel over and mulled over her appearance. She looked almost like a doll with her beautiful doe-like eyes rimmed with dark eyelashes, and her nose—which was a bit narrow—was snubbed at the end. An angel they say…but could she be that innocent? Could she be trusted? She was half-British.

Ah, no matter. Papa will decide.

She hoisted a briefcase full of money on the counter and Vicky nodded at Jez and Mercy to retrieve it and observe the contents—distinguishing whether they were real bills and not counterfeit.

Jez gave her the ok and Vicky snapped her fingers.

The anxious woman who came with them rushed forward and did a small awkward courtesy bow, then gave her a cigarette.

Vicky held the cigarette in her mouth as the anxious woman lit it. She took a puff then held it between her fingers, blowing out the smoke in the air. "What is it that you ask of us?"

Oksana smiled. "I want you to track this person down in America and bring him to us. He is of great importance to Papa," handing over a picture of a man in handcuffs and a prison jumpsuit. "He has a strong connection with the drug market in this Miami, Flor—rida."

Vicky stared at the picture, unconvinced. "What use could he be to him?"

"Information," Oksana said curtly, turning to other girls who've been silent throughout the discussion. "There's a background story between this man and those who imprisoned him. These men who have done him so wrong."

Vicky looked down at the Argentinian man and tilted her head in consideration. Men who have done wrong was a common thing. Men who get locked in prison for drugs was a common thing. It was nothing new to her. Just what could a drug lord like him give that was valuable that she could not?

"These…_men_, what of them? How do they fit in?" she asked curiously, looking up at Oksana.

But Oksana didn't reply; a hostile expression set in her face.

Vicky raised one eyebrow. "What?"

Oksana narrowed her eyes. "Your girl. Tell her to stop."

Confused, Vicky glanced over at the girls who weren't doing anything, and she wondered briefly what they might have done when she wasn't looking to disturb the woman. She clucked her tongue—a sound she only made when she was unhappy with them, and which prompted them to nod their heads over to Mercy who now stood on the stage—twirling around the silver pole.

She gave Mercy a warning glare and the girl shrugged her shoulders and hopped off the stage.

"These men?" she repeated again, still watching Mercy.

"They know one of the associates we are searching for. Leonardo Ricci."

She whirled her head around. "How do you know this?"

Leonardo Ricci she's heard of. He was the famous fugitive on the news. The bold one. He had avoided capture more than once, and it was a definite turn on in her eyes.

_Out of the gutter. Stay out._

"Classified files that Ivan obtained," Oksana explained while bringing out her knife again and polishing the blade with her handkerchief. "He is our confidante and works as a foreign intelligence service agent. He has one mole in the Russian embassy in USA and another mole who works within the FBI."

_Hmm…perhaps an influence to them being a mole himself_, Vicky thought for a minute, but then pressed another imperative question. "So who are the men who knows this Leonardo?" She watched as Oksana traced her finger along her knife and raised her eyebrows at how she didn't even flinch when it drew blood. "They are policemen?"

"Criminals like you.

"Like me?"

"Yes."

"How are they like me?"

Oksana shrugged indifferently. "They destroy cities."

Yes, she…remembered. She quickly changed the subject. "But why this man? Why can't you just hire us to search for the associates ourselves?"

Oksana pursued her lips. "Papa has other tasks for this man. He wants him to invest in a project."

"I see…and the criminals?

"Will be our bargaining chip for the drug lord cooperation. Their heads for his money," she paused before saying. "Their profiles said one of them was a former FBI agent while the other"—she stabbed her switchblade into the counter suddenly—"was an ex-convict. Friends that met in a juvenile detention center. And allegedly they have stolen $100 million dollars from a Brazilian man—another drug lord named Her—Herman something. Now I do find this situation ironic. Two drug lords arrested and one dead. Ugh, Americans...so typical. Never satisfied." she uttered with disgust.

"Who is the third?"

"I don't care to say. What I want to address is the plan. Because once we have Leonardo's whereabouts from the fugitives, we will hand them over to him." nodding towards the picture.

_If they go willingly_, Vicky thought darkly. She leaned back her head and blew out a gust of smoke, speculating whether or not to get involved.

"So will you take our offer?" Oksana asked finally, looking her straight in the eye.

Vicky thought over it one last time before she actually reached her decision. Took only two minutes.

Straightening herself out, she finished off the rest of her drink, and rose to her feet while the others followed suit.

"Give us a week. We will have him for you then." she affirmed.

Oksana nodded.

Then one woman trailing after the other, they left the deserted strip club and headed to their white limousine parked outside the Red District.

Jez, the fiery one, reached for her jacket on the coat racket on their way out and threw it over her narrow shoulder. She was about to enter the long vehicle when Vicky stopped her with her hand, and gave a subtle nod to the anxious woman—lingering behind.

Understanding, Jez walked over to the anxious woman, who suddenly sank to her knees in horrible realization, and yanked her up. Jez back handed her in the face and hissed demands at her in German while dragging her out to the dark alleyway that the Mafiosi had used to kill the frat boys.

She threw the anxious, now frantic, woman to the ground, and brought a silencer she had tucked in her jacket—leveling it at her.

The woman had been a liability from the moment they first abducted her. Her video recording had been reliable for them when they delivered it to Kostya, and, well…she hadn't really given them any trouble for the kidnapping.

Still, she served no purpose for them anymore. She was a bystander.

And without a second's hesitation, she shot her twice in the chest.

* * *

**Ancelotti Villa, Sicily, Italy 7:08 a.m.**

**October 7, 2011**

"This is unacceptable," A Sicilian with a trimmed mustache on his lips raged. He was pacing back and forth across the room, his long wavy hair flowing behind him as he lost his cool at an aggressive rate. "They should have been here a day ago! What's taking so long?"

The Don of the Ancelotti family—an older man lounging in an armchair in the center of the living room right next to a mantel fireplace—was reading the daily newspaper, and smoking a pipe when he answered the younger furious man.

"Ah, Paolo you shouldn't worry yourself. They are fine. If everything has gone as planned, they will have the trucks and the weapons with it. The Russians will stand no chance. It is coming together at last."

"But does it take that long to get back, Zio? They're messing around, I know it. Especially that Luciana," he growled in anger. "She's a traitor."

"What? A girl like that? No, she is too loyal. Very strong character, but she is faithful to those she cares about. _If_ you're one of them…"

Paolo glared down at his Uncle. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe you haven't earned her respect yet, and therefore, her trust and promise. Her allegiance lies only with the other five."

"Blasphemy that's what it is!" he shouted.

The Uncle took out his pipe from his mouth and looked up at his nephew. "You are not to judge. You are a sinner." Then he went back to reading his newspaper.

_Ipocrita_, Paolo muttered under his breath, but his Uncle heard it and laughed. "Do you think she will learn to like you with that attitude?"

"Well she doesn't have much of a choice, does she? I am her capo!"

"So you are."

A pause.

Then—

"...Do you think she would take my offer as mi comare?"

"A lady's heart is like a treasure, Paolo," His Uncle lectured. "If you want it, you have to search deep for it. Not demand it. Just give her some time—she might warm up to you."

Paolo groaned. "And if she doesn't?"

His Uncle sighed. "Then you must let her go with her family. And speak not a word of it. She will do the same."

"Let her go? With those puttanas!" he shouted.

"They are not what you say. They are only woman with ambition. With dreams. Hopeless."

"Ana is." he spat out nastily.

"Ana is not a puttana—merely an innamorata to Benito."

"Si, the moron and her bastard."

"_Vergognoso che_ (Disgraceful you), that is her son. You should never speak about children in such tones."

"Ugh! I should've killed that little prick before she had a chance to hide it. Before she gave me the horns."

"Paolo, you maybe capo, but you do not talk about children that way. And it was you who was the _donnaiolo _first_._ Ana only found another to spare herself the heartache of you waking up with a _troia_. The fault is on you."

He glared at his Uncle before stalking off and heading towards the lounge room to cool off, muttering ipocrita under his breath on the way.

But after ten minutes he came storming through the office again, cussing angrily in Italian at someone on the phone, and knocked down a lamp in his fury.

His Uncle looked up in worry. "Has nothing turned out well?"

Paolo shook his head and hurried over to the desk, opening up his laptop and searching the topic of the Berlin military hijacking online. He found the first video link and clicked on it.

"You must watch that Zio. I have to speak to Gino. I'll be back."

He had a murder to arrange.

Gino fidgeted nervously in his chair while Paolo stared out the window of his private office. Paolo was angry, never a good sign. He himself was ticked off, but mostly he only wished Army found a damn good hiding spot or he was dead. He'd hate for that to happen since they had been talking terms again.

"So now they have broken our sacred code of silence. They wish to die." Paolo ranted to himself.

"Army would never endanger the family. Something had gone awry."

"_Vaffanculo! _He has betrayed us," Paolo exploded, his eyes narrowing on him. "You've seen the television's news, haven't you?"

"He's not responsible for it. Costan is." he said simply.

He had been assigned to stop any physical evidence from getting out. He was the screw up. Paolo only wanted Army dead because of the girl Luciana. He knew he had a thing for her.

Paolo glanced over at him with fire in his eyes, "You suggesting it's his fault then, no means is it Armando's?"

"That is not what I meant Boss. As Mafiosi, you should know when I tell the truth. I had laid my life down for you many times, I've given you my word on anything you ask, so you know I'd never lie or betray you. Army is reliable."

"He's become useless to us, _rifiuti _(garbage)_."_

So that's what he thought? Army meant nothing but garbage? The lie of all lies.

"So what is the plan then, capo?" He really couldn't change his mind once it was set. He had trouble keeping himself from being whacked.

Tapping his fingers underneath the desk, he watched as Paolo smoothed his hands down his suit jacket then picked up his cell phone. "Santino will do him and the rest of his cafones. I want their heads and he will be the made guy to do it. Armando and Costanzio first. And this Leonardo too," He slammed down the phone when no one answered. "But Luciana I want alive."

Of course he does. She was a bellissima, clearly he wanted to bed her.

"What of Giovanni and Reinaldo?" he asked, although he already knew their fate as well.

Paolo pulled out a cigar from one of his boxes and clipped the end off, then casually lit it with a match, taking several slow puffs until he blew it out in front of his face.

"Call in Santino. We need reinforcements. They are gonna fuckin' pay for this."

Gino rubbed a hand through his hair and leaned forward in his chair, "If I may, Paolo, I think it is best that we hold off it awhile. Let the thing blow over for a month then pursue the fuck ups. It is the wisest thing to do."

"Gino, I am the nephew of the Don. Do not go against my will. You do not want to quarrel with me. Capiche?"

"Si." he breathed out resignedly.

A half an hour later the made guy came walking through the double doors.

"You need me, Signore Ancelotti."

Paolo gave him a curt nod. "I have a contract for you. These five and anyone else who is responsible for the heist. Bring me the girl." He handed over a folder to the made guy, and then made a slitting throat motion with his hand.

The made guy recognized the names on the paper and looked up with appraising eyes. "You positive?"

"Si. Kill them." Paolo's words said in a finalized tone. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and the made guy nodded, and walked out the room without another word.

"I want Army killed and if he doesn't succeed. Do it with this." He pulled out a Beretta pistol from his desk and laid it out in front of him.

And being his obedient soldier of 14 years, he reluctantly put the gun in his pocket and settled back against the chair. So war was finally upon them and it was with their own. Cristo, the world has gone mad with more lust than greed. One was never enough.

Incorrigible man.

**AN: I originally planned to have Tej and Rome's point of view in this chapter, but it got so long I had to have it in a separate chapter. And, well, it didn't really fit in with this title. Behind Enemy Lines is basically the bad guy chapter. What they have planned for the months ahead or in the present.**** Thank you germany leger for the suggestions. I really appreciate your feedback and I really wish I could write my story with you-I could use some help :)**

**p.s. Gisele and Han chapter will happen very soon. I just need a little more time to edit.**


	10. King of Mechanics, Not Prince or Duke

**James.B007nd you make such a great point about Rome. It's true, he probably wouldn't be into the whole working at a garage thing 'cause of that ego of his, but they are paired together in the movie so I thought of a way to make it work. Rome has a way of opening his mouth and getting himself in trouble like with Carter in 2 Fast****2 Furious. He also has the audacity to make bets like in Fast Five—being the gambler. So what if he made a bet with Tej and he lost? And Tej, well, what better win than to have Rome work for him? To boss him around? **

* * *

**Tej's Garage Shop, Lisbon, Portugal 3:48 p.m.**

**May 13, 2012 **

"Yo, is everythang disconnected?" Tej hollered to him over the noise of a drill and he really had to clench his teeth down in his frustration before he lost his cool.

Man, he still can't believe this bullshit. Working at a garage for _this_ clown. Shit, he should be in the penitentiary. At least then he wouldn't be hassled on a day to day basis by this asshole. It was real bullshit. If he had just paid his dues and gotten that club like he had planned, then he would've been kicking it there instead of wasting time here.

And although the garage was a success, with a whole lotta business rolling in for them 'cause racing was illegal there and everyone wanted a car faster than a bullet—getting their chrome on, he couldn't imagine ending up in a boring ass job like this. And he remembered he once said he'd rather die than be caught wearing a bandana and coveralls again.

He exhaled loudly. Shit didn't happen though.

"Rome!"

He closed his eyes and clenched his fist_. _

_C'mon! Someone! Anybody! Just take my ass back to prison for another three years_, he yelled dramatically in his head. Put me on house arrest! Throw me in the crazy house! Anything but this. Pride is already dead. Don't have to threaten my fucking manhood too.

"What the hell you think bro?" he snapped back, not eager to please this fool for another month or two.

"So you took out the exhaust manifold, the intake assembly, _and_ the fuel injectors?" Tej questioned, ignoring his retort, walking over with a clipboard, and reading off the step by step list for replacing an engine in a car.

"Got it already." he said tersely.

"Drain the fluid?"

"Yeah."

"What 'bout the engine puller chains?"

He watched as Tej kneeled down next to the car lift that he had jacked up with the Mustang suspended from the concrete floor to tie his shoe.

"Attached to the bolt holders," he replied half-heartedly as he lowered the car lift then started pumping up the hoist so that the engine was coming out.

Once it was out, he swung the engine away in the tailgate of a nearby pickup truck, and wiped the sweat off his brow. "Now I just gotta replace the engine with this solid one," he pointed to a newer, but remanufactured engine.

He didn't even get a minute to ease it in before Tej started criticizing him.

"That's not how it supposed go. You gotta crank it so that you tilt the engine to the center." Tej instructed.

"I got it."

He continued to lower it down.

"Did ya hear me? You hafta—"

He slammed his hand on the hood. "Fuck man! I know your ass ain't tellin' me how to put the engine in this damn transmission. I know my shit, aight bro? Try to do your own thang over _there_."

Tej sniffed. "Yeah and what_ I_ know is that's not how you do it. If you mess up that car, you mess up our deal with the man. And then he's gonna kick your ass once it doesn't start then I'm gonna kick your ass for losing me a customer."

"Well, if you're so confident I'll mess it up—_boss_—why don't your ass come and put it then?"

"Oh I already know how to change the heart of a car. Consider me the surgeon up in this bitch while you're my assistant." Tej responded back with a smirk, leaning against the hood of a car.

"Nah man, I think—YOU—gotta it aaalll backwards. 'Cause I'm not the Duke or Prince. I'm the King, homie," he stated arrogantly. "And I've ran my own place in Barstow before your ass became ill-git. You know what I'm sayin'? The King of Mechanics, baby, worldwide professional."

Tej gave him a long blank look before stretching his fingers out in front of him, enunciating. "It's legit. Luuuhhh-git."

"Whatever man." he dismissed.

"Alright, Mr. King of Mechanics explain what you're using this for." Tej motioned to the engine crane stand.

He narrowed his eyes. "For the engine. What else?"

"Yeah so you know why it's got an engine leveler. It's used to balance it to where it will ease right in the car. And that's what it's supposed to be doin', but with steady and precise fingers—not fidgety," Tej indicated with a flex of his durable fingers. "Just let me do it. And don't be runnin' your damn mouth. It's what got you in trouble in the first place."

"You mean if I hadn't placed a bet and lost myself three million then I wouldn't have to be here?" he corrected, flicking a mini paper football he had in his pocket in the air and walking over to the mini-fridge; taking out his favorite soda.

Tej's eyes looked harsh suddenly. "You know you really shouldn't have talked that guy into shaving points."

"Nah, I shouldn't have placed a bet against you." he griped, twisting the cap off the Pepsi bottle, "Then I wouldn't have lost another million."

"And since I've paid the money back to you, you're my employee now. 'Til you pay me back every shiny cent in blood and sweat. So since I'm your boss, get to work, do as you're told, and be civil while you're still inside this garage, alright?"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"King of mechanics…" Tej snorted, back to his antics. "You're really outta your damn mind."

"So what? You own me? That what your technician, garage owning ass thinks?" he bit out sharply

Tej shrugged coolly. "Yeah, you're my employee. You take orders like any other worker. As a matter of fact," pointing a thumb behind him to the desk in the back of the garage, "why don't your ungrateful ass reacquaint itself to those papers over there, huh? Be useful."

Tej crossed his arms and waited.

Rome grumbled hater at him before walking over to the office to the pile of expenses.

Argh! He sure as hell didn't wanna do that shit, but four million was a lot of doe to lose and get paid back, so he was in the man's debt 'til he said he wasn't. And he had to keep his word this time. Or Brian would hold it against him for the rest of his life—tease him relentlessly. It wasn't worth it.

"Hey! He tested the compression and he has bad rod bearings too." he heard Joaquin, their Portuguese mechanic, call over to Tej with a phone held over his shoulder.

"Tell him to bring it in!" Tej called back.

"Uh yeah he said bring it in." Joaquin said and repeated it in Portuguese.

Muttering under his breath, he strolled over to the desk and flopped down on the armed chair. He flipped on the tv overhead, and saw the screen appear with a blonde lady wearing a blue raincoat, holding a umbrella.

**_German authorities are holding a press conference today on the craftiest military convoy attack in European history. The drivers of the three armored trucks that were used to ram against one of the military convoy vehicles loaded with Russian weapons the Saturday morning of October 5th on a four-lane highway will be identified as well as the others involved in the attack._**

He was sorting through the damn paperwork for the mortgage and looked up just in time to see the crime scene and the exploded cars.

**_The suspects, who had infiltrated the convoy wearing U.S. military uniform and rendering unconscious the convoy operatives with nerve gas, were transporting military vehicles to a ferryboat that had later exported them to Amsterdam. They had made it to Amsterdam, but only to receive an attack of their own. The attack that was initiated on the ferryboat to Amsterdam—carrying KAMAZ trucks and civilians—was by the Chinese Triads and had been recorded by one witness. Listen to what this witness had to say."_**

"Oh shit, brah come check this out," he motioned Tej over to the tv, fight forgotten at the moment. "C'mon this shit is crazy."

**_"When I was there it happened so quickly that I had to reevaluate what was happening in my head. But I had my phone on me and I recorded a little bit of what happened. See there was a group of women," the female witness said in a recording played in the interview report. "Spanish—I suppose, and they were helping out the people in military uniform against the Russian guys who were trying to steal the trucks. I saw at least four women and five men. Some were shot and wounded and I didn't know what to think of it. I thought it was a terrorist thing, but then suddenly when I saw these guys, I don't know—creep out of the shadows, I guess…it was like Ninja Assassins or something."_**

**_The witness also went on to say that those involved were escorted out by four identified vehicles that appeared suddenly from the burning wreckage of the ferryboat, taking the KAMAZ trucks with them. The footage captured by the witness had not been release for press, but the police have taken it as evidence for their investigation."_**

"Shit, if it ain't us destroying the streets of Rio, then its jokesters like them taking out martial in Germany. Damn." Tej remarked, coming up from behind him.

He shook his head disparagingly. "Amateurs. At least we got our plan to work. They just got huge targets on their backs."

"You act like you don't." Tej pointed out stiffly.

He crossed his arms. "Nah, I'm cool."

**_The military convoy attack that occurred in early October nearly killing 17 people, including a dozen Americans, was catching fire again as a British local has claimed to have spotted one of the suspects in London, England. SOCA spokesman in UK said the officials were still deciding whether or not the Italian associates that were involved had indeed been trekking around in London._**

**"_It's a possibility," said the spokesman. "But if not, we will search until Germany has found those responsible." _**

**_The other four identities still kept under wraps are to be announced for the world at the conference this morning in Berlin by the chief in the organized crime department of LKA law enforcement."_**

Turning the volume up a little, he sat up straighter in his chair and as the tv screen quickly changed, showing a close up of a woman standing near a courthouse wearing a bulletproof vest and a determined look, he frowned. The caption underneath says her name was Bailey Wilson.

Nope, no one he recognized.

But next it showed a huge man with a bald head and a goatee—a badge hanging over his neck.

"Ain't that Hobbs?" Tej said incredulously. "Ah hell no! Hell no!"

"More like Dog Chapman planted in the fucking bureau of secret service." he muttered under his breath.

Furthermore, it showed another woman walking beside him to the podium, a crowd of reporters, cops, and the public waiting outside the press room for the conference. He recognized her immediately.

"Fuck that's Monica! Brian's floozy in Miami. Remember her?"

**_Customs Service agent Monica Fuentes who has been working on this case since it started had this to say about the hijacking before the conference._**

**"_Although we aren't German, we have been assisting in this investigation as a clause for the extradited treaty we have with Germany as we also have enough evidence from one of the suspects who is American, and has committed more than one felony in our country—involved with this heist. It is our goal that we detain the fugitives involved in the heist a year ago in Rio Janeiro, and this person may lead us to those responsible. They will stand trial in the U.S."_**

"Goddamn. Can you believe this shit?" he exclaimed, standing up from his chair.

"I know that is fucked up man," Tej half-turned away from the tv then back. "Damn, we helped that chick out."

"Yeah we did. And who the hell is she talking 'bout anyway? The American involved?" he asked with a hard edge in his voice.

"I dunno. It don't make any sense."

**_Diplomatic Secret Service agent Luke Hobbs added on to this statement. "What we know is that this person was claimed to be dead, but isn't and is now roaming the streets of Europe. This person has avoided the law for too long and, is in fact, a female. She will be identified with the rest in this morning's conference."_**

They both looked at each other in uncertainty.

"Who'd you think it is?" Tej asked carefully, his eyes now fixed on the screen.

"Female…." he shook his head. "I dunno."

"Gisele?" Tej suggested weakly.

He exhaled. "Well, she _is_ in Berlin, but when has anyone ever claimed she was dead, huh? Isn't she with the seed chewer? Han?"

Tej rubbed his forehead with his hands and replied tiredly. "Fuck, how should I know? Last I heard they were together and traveling Europe…Berlin."

...

After a silent minute, he spoke up again. "You think Brian and them know?"

Tej gave a small shrug. "Maybe. But they would've let us know if it was serious. Otherwise it's back to square one and running away from the law."

"Yeah."

They watched on as the conference started and as the German police were talking about the case and how they believe they were close to finding and catching the bad guys.

Whatever, get to the point.

And after a while he was fed up and was about five—four mere seconds away from changing it and looking the shit up online instead until the chief of police finally got to the revealing part.

**"_The identities of the military convoy hijacking are associates of the Ancelotti family. Two already have been identified Constanzio Pecoraro and Leonardo Ricci. The other four are…..Armando Guerrera, Giovanni Carcione, Reinaldo Lo Vergiere, and Luciana de Santis. However, as we found out through both the American agents here, the real identity of the female suspect is—"_**

But before they could actually hear the rest of her name, they heard a loud crash outside that echoed throughout the garage. Then another one.

"What the fuck?" he began and stared over at the shattered glass on the ground, then up at the shocking view that burned his line of vision. His _Koenigsegg _CCX R—his baby…had a crack in the window.

_Ah fuck no_, he thought angrily. Fuck no!

He charged to the window to see what asshole wanted to get his ass killed, but as soon as he saw a guy in a ski mask with an automatic weapon in his hand—aimed directly at him—he dodged for cover.

There were a shit load of rounds being fired in the garage—the bullets splintering the wall right above his head. It punctured through the customer's Mustang, their tools, equipment, and anything else that occupied inside in their shop; Joaquin almost getting hit too.

"Go get out of here, bro! Go!" he yelled at Tej through the fray of bullets, trying to crawl away from the gunfire.

Tej, not one to hesitate, quickly headed out back towards the emergency exit with a panicking Joaquin on his heels.

Rome looked around him, trying to analyze the situation in his head, and swiftly made his way over to his work desk—focused on opening the cabinet from the bottom drawer, and finding the pistol he had packed there.

And once he had it in his hand, he checked to see if it had any bullets and realizing it did, he stuck another spare clip he had in his pocket.

_Alright, time to get ugly Barstow, _he thought seriously.

He chanced a look from beside his huge work desk and spotted the masked guy through the broken glass window. The masked guy was reloading his gun with another clip and carefully heading in his direction.

The room was now obscured in darkness after what he could guess was Tej's doing. Cutting off the power so he was sure the guy couldn't see him. And he had to admit it, it was a smart move on his part. Might just save his life.

"A little closer, that's right one more step." he whispered as he watched the masked guy sneak his way in.

And as soon as the masked guy was close enough, he neatly tripped him over with his foot, making the masked guy fall over on his face and lose his gun. He quickly made a grab for the gun as it fell and stood up to aim it at the pig, but then paused; an uneasy feeling falling over him.

Shit, he's never killed anyone before. How the fuck was he gonna do it now?

_It's either my life or his_, the practical thought passed through his mind and he agreed. That's right. My life or his.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the masked guy suddenly swept his legs from underneath him, and he fell on his back. The masked guy then got on top of him and started beating on him; punching at his face and going fucking crazy. He managed to block one punch as it came at him and cross kicked the fucker away from him. And once he did that, he went for his piece and almost had it until the masked guy jumped on his back and started choking him from behind.

Fuck! He needed to kill this asshole and he needed to do it now.

But this guy was strong for his size and more than determined to knock his ass cold. He could feel he was already falling to knees, his vision getting blurry and fuzzy with the dude tightening his grip around his throat.

When his heart started racing in anxiety, he realized his only chance at surviving was to get his gun and blast the fucker to kingdom come before he blacked out.

He can't die. Not like this.

He tried to reach for the gun by his feet on the floor—that the dumbass didn't bother to pick up—and was thrown to the ground. The masked guy kicked him in the stomach and nearly landed another kick again before he drove his foot in his nut sack, and made him topple over.

Desperately, he crawled over to where the gun was and snatched it. He turned to shoot the masked guy when the fucker tackled him—knocking the gun away.

They wrestled each other for it, grappling each other's throats, and pushing their heads in the other direction to keep the other from reaching it. But with all his upper strength, he shoved his elbow into the masked guy's nose—breaking it on impact, and dove for his ghat.

Got it!

This time he wouldn't allow him to dislodge him. He had to end it now.

Pinning him to the ground with his knee, he fired once and watched the guy's eyes through the ski mask fixate on the ceiling. Staring at nothing 'cause he was dead.

Oh fuck…

Oh shit, he killed the guy…

Fuck! He just killed the guy! Fuck!

_Self-defense_, the rational part of his mind reasoned. Yeah, that's true. He had every fucking right to fight for his life. And the dude was gonna kill him—he saw his intent. So it was either kill or end up in a coffin himself.

Still, how the fuck did this happen? Why him? Why come after him?

And he didn't know what drove him to do it, but he wanted to know what the hell he was dealing with, and before he knew it, he pulled off the mask of the guy and revealed an Asian man's face. Young, almost boyish.

Jumping back in shock, he dragged a shaky hand across his head and let out an unsteady breath; one thought repeating like an echo inside his mind: Just a kid man. Just a kid. Probably in his early 20's.

Unable to stand up right as he did before, he let himself fall on one knee and bow his head over it—pleading for forgiveness. He never wanted to kill a kid. It was an unthinkable thing. Un-damn-thinkable.

He was about to cover the young man's body with a tarp he had crammed on the shelf until he heard a crash again and saw another masked man. Only this time he wasn't alone.

Fuck.

Without stopping to get a good look at any of them, he got up and quickly ran to the back entrance, bursting through the door. And he could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he ran—with each step he took, and he used it to push harder against the ground, throwing himself ahead of the thugs and putting as much distance as he could between him and them.

He could hear someone's voice yelling behind—a fast dialect he didn't understand. In seconds though, he only heard his own labored breathing and the thudding of his feet on the pave road.

Alright, he was almost there.

Their emergency spot was two blocks. Right where they kept their other cars in case of some shit like this happened.

He sprinted inside the parking lot—to his black Mitsubushi Lancer Evo X car—and caught his breath for a sec before he pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket. He punched in Tej's number and waited anxiously for him to answer.

"C'mon, bro…pick up."

He picked up on the second ring. "Yo Rome, you alright?"

"I nearly had my ass killed when this Chinese dude attacked me. But I got him," he said, getting inside his car, starting it up, and throwing it into reverse. "I'm heading to the train station. You gonna be there on time?"

"Yeah, but we're trying to shake some of the guys that was on the roof. Joaquin is driving. Are you at the parking lot? You grab the Glock?"

"Yeah I got it."

"We got ours. Look, we can't just leave the garage. We gotta call up Joaquin's friends and then once we're set we could start capping bullets up their—"

"Man we can't do no shit like that!" he interrupted harshly. "It's busted for real cuz."

"…Why not?"

He huffed. "We just can't go back bro. They'd murder us the second we stepped in there. Chinese thugs…you think y'all could handle that?"

A long pause.

"Alright, hang on…." Tej answered finally. "I'll be there. "

"Hurry up. I have a feeling this shit has something to do with that report we watched earlier."

"My thoughts exactly dawg. Seven minutes, we'll be there."

"I told Brian yesterday we'd be in on Saturday. Gotta change plans and meet him now." He murmured then added as two masked men came walking briskly up from the corner. "See ya there."

He hung up the phone and stomped hard on the gas pedal before they could reach him.

Shit, where'd y'all come from? A Quentin Taratino film?

And despite the situation, he snickered to himself and got on the main road; glancing in the rearview mirror to check if anyone was following him, and let out one deep breath when he saw that no one was.

Alright, just a few miles now and he'll be there.

He tried to collect his thoughts on what happened back in the garage. He shot a guy, killed him. He got shot at by these Chinese thugs that he assumed were the Triads they were talking 'bout on tv. 'Cause, shit, they were referring to their heist and some connection they had with the female involved in the Berlin hijacking. And apparently there's a price on her head since they're coming after them now….but…they had a _connection? _With her?

Who the hell is this woman? That cop Elena? Gisele? Who?

Taking the first exit route, he swerved his car over to the right lane and drove straight on the highway until he reached the roundabout and took the third exit to the right. Then when he stopped at the stoplight, a black SUV suddenly pulled up next to him, and even though the drivers in front of him were honking angrily, he hurriedly swerved his car back out to the oncoming traffic.

Paranoia had nothing to do with it, but black-tinted windows like theirs wasn't discreet to him, it was too fucking suspicious man.

As he drove recklessly towards his destination, a truck suddenly started to change lanes in front of him, trying to sneak through the array of traffic, but not before getting slammed into by the black SUV he saw only a minute earlier—that came out of fucking nowhere**! **

There was a thunderous sound and a shattering of glass all over the road—the clashing of metal on metal. He saw a person fly through the windshield from the passenger's seat, leaving a pool of trailing blood on the hood, and gagged.

And as disgusted as he was at that shit, he hadn't realized that it just a distraction.

BOOM!

A bullet punctured a hole through the side of his car, near the back tire, and jolted him in his driver's seat. He saw another black SUV and it was right behind him with one of the assholes in the SUV firing shots at him, blasting his back window, and one of his taillights.

Fuck, he had to shake them somehow.

Swerving passed a Volkswagen Eos, he chanced a construction area—with no idea where to go—and nearly collided into a dirt tractor, angling past huge rocks and a tower crane.

The black SUV served its way out of the traffic too, but skidded to a halt after nearly hitting into a gridlock of cars that appeared to block them out.

"Orient station, orient station," he repeated to himself as he drove. "Where's that hub at?"

When he finally got there, he eased along the curb and parked on the sidewalk. He quickly ridded himself of his coveralls and pulled out a luggage bag from the backseat. He put on a long leather coat, a gray scarf, and a black fedora—disguise clothes—then pulled out a manila envelope; he had his plane tickets, cash, passports, IDS, and the penthouse keys. His getaway kit.

He took a deep breath and got out of his car.

As soon as he stepped out, he tried to keep his head low and make his way over to the glass lift subtly—keeping one foot in front of the other, and took the one that lowered him to the platform below. He had an all-day pass that he could use anytime he wanted to, and in this case, would be the exit strategy he needed 'til he could reach the airport. Then off to Telerife where Brian stayed with his new family.

Shit, he didn't know if he should bring trouble to him there. He oughta set up a different place to meet. Madrid? Madrid seemed cool enough to him. Just gotta send him a message. He pulled out his phone again and opened it to send a new text message.

Unbeknownst to him, the three men in ski masks that emerged from the black SUV in front of the train station with automatic weapons in hand, following him to the national train network.

But what they didn't know was as soon as he got off the phone, he whipped out his gun and ran to another glass lift that would bring him down to the metro station. And he heard screams of fear and exaggerated yells as he went down—begging for their lives and other panicky shit people say when they're caught off guard at the sight of a gun, but he also heard other voices—muffled fast voices from the garage, and he knew it was them.

He jogged away from the lifts when he set foot on the ground and got a good measured distance between himself and the Chinese thugs.

Relaxing a little, he backed himself into an adjacent wall, and checked his watch.

It read 4:25.

4:25…Tej.

Where the fuck was he? Shit man, he said he was coming. If he's one of those guys who claims that he doesn't break his word either, then he'd better show up now or get left. He already gotta lot to deal with on his plate right now. He didn't need him to make it worse than it already was.

He shifted his body away from the wall to see if anyone was on his tracks, but when he saw no one, he edged quietly along it as he as he made for the train that would bring him where he needed to go.

And then after a while, when he finally felt like he lost them with no steps echoing his way, he leaned against the wall with a groan of relief.

"S'okay, I got away," he reassured himself. "I got away."

"Oh. Sorry. You just ran out of luck." a female voice said behind him and he could hear the cock of a pistol.

He froze.

Damn.

He raised his hands in the air, expecting to get shot at the moment and closing his eyes before he did—sending a silent prayer. Instead, he felt the butt of the gun hit him in the back of the head.

Then everything was dark.

**AN: Although I love writing this story, I'm feeling really inspired to write another fanfic too. I honestly don't know if I should keep writing this story. If you guys still want me to continue please let me know. Thank you for the comments and support. Thank you!**

**p.s. If it doesn't sound as good as the other chapters, I'm sorry, it's because I don't feel as passionate as I do when I write in Dom or Letty's perspective. **

**Please let me know what you think. Point out mistakes or give me your opinions.**

**Much luv for you guys,**

**larosa19**


	11. Just a Temporary Note

[For germany leger in answer to your review]

Ah, I'm very sorry I didn't really make myself clear, did I? That was my bad.

Please don't misunderstand me. I _do_ love writing in Letty and Dom's perspective, I really do. I really get into character when I write in Letty and Dom's perspective and they are the only reason I keep writing, but...I guess I'm just finding it hard right now to find some inspiration to write it the way I envisioned it in the first place. Ideas change and putting in the time is so hard when you have a lot going for you at the same time. I'm usually up 'til 3 or 4 a.m. in the morning, trying to finish a chapter. I don't want to limit myself or write sloppy, I'm always correcting, editing, reading it over to myself to see if it makes sense. It's a lotta work writing a story. I've been working on this story since May last year and I'm just barely posting it on here. I just wish I had some help, you know? Someone that can write this story with me. That way I won't be overworking myself or letting anyone down at the same time. Please understand that I do love this story, I really do. But I have a bunch of other projects that I've been eager to write too.

But thank you for the compliments, I really appreciate that. Do you have any advice you want to give me for this story? Please don't be afraid to tell me. Thank you!

larosa19

p.s. Don't forget to check in with this chapter. Once I get the other chapter done, I'll replace it inside this chapter.

Thanks again ;)


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